Our Best Selves
by Trinity Everett
Summary: They're both muddling through life. Her days are full of politics and paperwork. His are spent surfing the web in his underwear and buying gadgets to drive his mother crazy. Could a charity auction be what Captain Kate Beckett and novelist Richard Castle need to find their way together? Or will fumbles and stubbornness keep them apart? AU. A Castle 2015 Hiatus Ficathon story.
1. Chapter 1

_**They're both muddling through life. Her days are full of politics and paperwork. His are spent surfing the web in his underwear and buying gadgets to drive his mother crazy. Could a charity auction be what Captain Kate Beckett and novelist Richard Castle need to find their way together? Or will fumbles and stubbornness keep them apart?** _A Castle 2015 Hiatus Ficathon story.__

 _ _Cover art by the fantastic prosemeds!_  
_

 **Our Best Selves**

* * *

Of all the things Kate Beckett has had to do since taking over as head of the 12th Precinct, this party probably ranks as one of the strangest.

No, that's not really true. It's not the party, it's what the party entails. She'd always known about the party, the annual charity event; it's actually considered one of the NYPD's more enjoyable functions, but she'd hoped when the time came, she'd be able to claim other plans and avoid the spectacle. Of course, that hadn't happened, and here she is, dressed to the nines and playing nice with the upper echelon.

In the forty minutes Kate's been here, she's seen her boss, her boss's boss, and three of the judges who sign warrants for her detectives. Even the mayor is here, though they haven't crossed paths as of yet. He's making a run for governor at the end of his term, so he's been spending time amongst the guests with the deepest pockets first. It was the way of politics, really.

It doesn't help that as she schmoozes she's constantly being reminded of her decision to sign up for the date auction. She'd only agreed to participate after Esposito saw the memo in her email and called her chicken. Now she wishes she'd backed down from the challenge and let the others have their fun. Yes, the money raised goes to a good cause, one that's near and dear to her heart after what happened to Montgomery on the eve of his retirement, but it's still embarrassing. She still has to stand on stage with over a dozen other precinct captains while strangers decide whether they'll share an expensive dinner.

It's a spotlight she doesn't want to be in, not even a little bit.

At least the buffet is stocked and the city has apparently spared no expense on the open bar tonight. Not that she intends to have more than one or two cocktails, but it's nice to know the liquor won't be cheap.

As much as the food and the drinks have called her name, she's made sure to mingle and be seen mingling. Once she's played her part, she has every intention of getting a plate, piling it high with food, and taking her vodka and soda to relax until the auction begins.

She stops a few times on her pass through the outskirts of the party, shaking the commissioner's hand and greeting the deputy commissioner warmly. Seeing them both gives her the opportunity to give them a heads up and discuss the promotion paperwork she'd passed along just before shutting her computer down and leaving her office for the evening. Her team, her former team, does great work day in and day out, and they deserve the accolades that go along with it.

A pay bump and a slightly altered title won't fix everything, but maybe it'll show them that she _knows_ how hard they work and how grateful she is for it.

Thankfully, Dave says he'll take a look at her recommendations, adding that everyone is impressed with the squad's numbers this quarter. It's not the largest compliment she's received since taking over command, but Beckett can't help but feel her chest expand with pride.

"It really helps to have a good team, sir. They do the leg work, after all. I just sign off on things."

The men are called away before they can respond, which works well enough for her. She wants to give the credit where it's due; her biggest contributions lately have been her ability to sit on her ass and manage. Everyone else does the hard work.

Another scan of the room has her nodding to familiar faces. She offers a smile to an old academy classmate and a few of the detectives from her own precinct before moving to survey the crowd at the center of the room. That's where the big wigs are, it seems.

A broad back in an expensive, tailored tux catches her eye, but she's not ashamed to say it's the incredible ass attached to that back that keeps her attention.

At least until a passing waiter forces her eyes to lift and she finds the owner of said ass smirking over at her.

No way. No _freaking_ way.

She just ogled Richard Castle while he talks to the mayor of New York City. A blush stains her cheeks, no doubt creeping down her neck to her chest. Subtlety, thy name is Kate Beckett.

He doesn't look offended, though. He looks amused more than anything else, holding her eyes even as the blonde – the incredibly young blonde – he's with murmurs something into his ear and sashays away. It's only when the mayor's easy chuckle echoes through the room that he turns his attention back to the other man.

Releasing a breath, she forces herself to walk away. She's just going to pretend that didn't happen.

Once upon a time, Richard Castle had been her favorite author. His books brought her solace when her life was angry and tormented. The good guys prevailed and the bad guys were locked away with a flick of the wrist and a snarky quip, and that's what she'd needed at the time. And then he killed off Derrick Storm, wrote a tome she could barely read once, let alone multiple times like she has all his other books, and hasn't released a word since.

She's seen him in the papers, of course, out and about with actresses and models and the like on his arm. She's even heard the reports of him being arrested for various acts of insanity – the most recent being the Macy's Parade fiasco – but it's surprising to see him here at a charity event for the NYPD.

Then again, he is rich and this is a fundraiser. She supposes it makes sense for him to be here if he's friends with the mayor. Mystery solved.

Halfway to the food, she feels eyes on her. Appraising, interested eyes. His eyes, she just knows it. Richard Castle's eyes are following her around the ballroom.

She tries not to be flattered that he's watching her now. He'd been sweet the first time they met, but that was over a decade ago. After everything else she's seen and heard about him, it's probably safe to assume that was part of the act, the charm of the author.

He's not inconspicuous in the least when he joins her at the buffet, but Kate smothers the urge to smile and continues loading her plate as if she's oblivious. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him doing the same, barely looking at what he's choosing while his eyes are on her.

Until she snickers.

"Might want to rethink that last handful, bud," she warns, licking her lips quickly. He looks up, somehow shocked that he's been caught. Apparently nobody's told him that 'spy' isn't his forte.

"Why? I mean, excuse me?"

Snorting quietly, Kate points to the sprig of green on his plate. "It's the garnish."

"O-oh. Oh."

Her lips smooth together as he returns the offending leaf to the tray. Smooth, Mr. Castle. Very smooth.

"Thanks for saving me from that." He replaces it with actual food this time, smiling lopsidedly in her direction.

"Anytime, Mr. Castle." It pops out without her permission. Damn. She didn't want him to know.

Delight slides across his face at the recognition. Of course it does.

"You know me? Well that's not very fair; I don't know your name."

And there's the flirt she's heard so much about. "That's okay. I think you can survive."

His smile deepens. "That's okay," he echoes. "I can guess."

Lowering her plate to the table, she turns to face him, eyebrow already arching toward her hairline.

"Let's hear it."

"Well, there's no ring to say you're married, but you also haven't been acting _too_ familiar with anyone, so all of that makes me say you're not the wife or a spouse of anyone in here. You've been working the room subtly, talking to some pretty important people. Friendly, but professional. People are practically falling all over themselves to talk to you. Which makes sense, because you're beautiful, but you also command respect with every word."

Heat floods her cheeks. He's been watching her that long?

"So my guess," he continues, looking her over carefully, "is you're one of the fine members of the NYPD. A… lieutenant? No, a captain. That was a captain conversation you were having with the deputy commissioner."

It takes a moment for her to find her voice. "Very good, Mr. Castle." She pops a cocktail sausage into her mouth, using the time to chew as a way to gather her thoughts. "Still not my name, though."

His eyebrows wiggle. "Getting there."

"Uh huh, get there faster. I want to sit down and enjoy my food." She does. The auction is supposed to start soon and once it does, it'll be a while before she has the chance to get off her feet. There'll be more people to command respect from and things for her to consider buying.

"Okay, okay, I think –"

Her eyes slide past him to where Esposito's gesturing for her. Damn it. Is it time already? They must want everyone in one place before beginning introductions.

"Too late," Beckett singsongs, pushing her frustration down with the tease. She lifts her plate again. Maybe she can eat a little more before going on stage. "Guess you'll have to wait to find out, Castle."

His face falls a little bit. "But –"

She sees his 'date' heading their way. Well, at least he won't be lonely.

"Oh, look who's back. You better make sure your date was able to get her curfew extended if you want to stay for the rest of the night."

Winking, Kate brushes past him easily. She doesn't even need to look back to know he's watching the sway of her hips on her trek to the stage.

* * *

Although the date auction itself is silent, each of the participating captains has to appear on stage while they're "introduced" by someone from their precinct. Some of the intros are sincere, polite blurbs, probably prepared by well-meaning unis; hers is courtesy of Ryan and Esposito. It's more like a roast than a way of talking her up, but she takes it graciously, laughing so hard at times, her sides actually ache. They both really know how to work a crowd and it worth it to see them grinning behind their microphones. Even if it is at her expense.

"Thanks, guys," she drawls as they leave the stage. Thankfully her earlier assumption was wrong and she doesn't have to stay up there through all of the introductions. "Now my date's going to think Starbucks and an office supply store are my go-to places for a good time."

Esposito smirks. "But aren't they, boss?"

Her eyes roll. She doesn't have the heart to do more than shove the back of his head lightly.

He laughs easily in return. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date myself."

Really? She thought he and Lanie were done for good. Again. Maybe not. She'll have to ask Lanie next time she sees her.

Her face must show her surprise, because he points to the food. Of course.

"Go on." She doesn't need to dismiss him and they both know it, but after so many years it's just habit.

Ryan lingers at her side, shifting his weight uncomfortably. Things haven't been the same between them since Montgomery started grooming her to be his replacement. So much of her caseload got shifted to the boys that the life Ryan had been hoping to plan with Jenny O'Malley had been put on hold and pushed aside. After their captain's death and Beckett's fast-tracked promotion, Ryan had confessed that it had ended entirely. He just didn't have time anymore, and even though he'd never say it to her face, they both knew it was her fault.

"So… boss… do you still…"

"Please, if you can. If not, I'll survive, but if you can…" So maybe she's asked him to "bid" on the date with her. There's nothing wrong with that, is there? It'll still be a donation to charity. It would just also mean she gets to spend her date at home in her pjs.

"Sure, I'll give it a shot."

"Thank you. I'll pay you back, whatever you end up spending."

"Hmm, looks like it could be hefty," he says, tilting his head thoughtfully.

"I'm good for it," she promises, quickly adding, "within reason." Yeah, she knows what that almost-playful smirk flitting across his face means.

It's true, though. Even if he splurges a little, she is good for it. Other than her rent and the occasional new suit, her money mostly sits in her bank account.

The smile he offers her this time is genuine, reminiscent of how it used to be. "I know. I'm just messing with ya."

"I know." She smiles quickly, wanting to hold onto that feeling.

She squeezes his shoulder as he heads off to join Javi at the buffet. A reminder not to forget to bid is on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows it back, letting the man eat in peace. The auction doesn't formally open until the final captain has been introduced, and she wants him to get his bid in early and head off the competition. But she won't nag.

"So, Captain Beckett, Captain Kate Beckett, it's nice to meet you."

Spinning, she smiles her polite smile. Maybe it's leftover hero-worship, maybe it's his body language, but there's just something about him that both flusters her and puts her on the defensive.

"Mr. Castle."

"Rick." He sticks his hand out amiably, lips twisted in a sexy smile. Somehow, despite not having been the one to guess her name, he still looks triumphant for knowing it.

She takes his hand reluctantly, her grip firm. "Rick."

"Having fun?" he asks, looking around the room once before returning his attention to her.

"For the most part, yourself?"

He grins, completely unfazed by her less than forthcoming responses. "This is the most fun I've had in ages."

"No parades to crash lately?"

"Funny."

It is pretty funny, even if he won't admit it. A little biting, but funny.

"So will you be bidding for a chance to spend time with any of your colleagues?"

Laughing softly, she shakes her head. For one, she sees most of them enough as it is. "No. I'm focusing on the wine and cheese items. Unlike some of us," she pauses, looking pointedly at him before continuing, "I don't need to pay for an evening in anyone's company."

"Neither do I. What a fun coincidence."

"Uh huh. Your 'date' suggests otherwise."

He rolls his shoulders back, leaning in just a tad. It's an interesting technique, part deflection, part flirt, part intimidation, maybe? "I'll have you know that Chelsea is a very lovely young –"

"Young is right," Kate interrupts, poking her tongue between her teeth. The girl looks like she's about twenty-three at most.

"She's a lovely young woman, Captain. But you don't have to be jealous."

Rolling her eyes, she takes a step back. It really doesn't matter to her one way or another. It's just a little bit sad to see how far he's fallen. The girl accompanying him tonight is no actress. Well, maybe she is. Who knows what goes on behind closed doors with Richard Castle these days; a little acting might be necessary.

"I'm not sure jealous is the word I'd use, but whatever helps you sleep at night."

He chuckles, and her heart decidedly does _not_ flutter, not even in the slightest. He's handsome, yes, but so far he's just that. All fluff, no substance. Nice to look at, but nothing else.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asks after a beat.

"You're here with someone else," she reminds him, crossing her arms over her chest, tearing his gaze away from the strapless, sweetheart neckline.

Castle lifts a shoulder. "I don't have to be. I could be here with you. Or all three of us could be here tog – wait, where are you going?"

Just like that, the fluttering is gone and distaste twists her lips. What a jerk.

"Not interested. Enjoy the rest of your night, Mr. Castle, doing whatever it is you do."

This time, there's no swing in her hips when she walks away.

She spies him once more a few minutes later, making his way to the auction table, but when he disappears after that, she figures he's decided to slink off with his date. Not that she cares, because she doesn't. She's just disappointed.

Thankfully, she only has to chitchat for another half an hour before she's able to take her drink and another plate of food over to her table, putting her feet up in an empty chair. The boys join her after a little bit, nursing their drinks and sharing stories from the bullpen. It's enough like old times that Kate finds herself relaxing and joking right back.

God, she's missed this.

When the auction has officially closed and people are allowed to view the results, she downs the last of her drink – mostly vodka-flavored ice water – and stands. Time to figure out how much she owes Ryan. He won't say how much he bid, but he'd been certain it would be enough.

"Let me know if I need to take Ryan shopping for a nice suit for your date," Esposito teases, finishing his drink and patting his chest. "I left my wallet in the car, but I can get it."

Kate snorts. "Yeah, I'll be sure to do that."

There are already ten people ahead of her when she arrives at the table, most of them chatting with one another, oblivious to the way her hands fidget uncomfortably at her sides with every minute she waits. Judging by some of the numbers she hears, it's possible Ryan was able to come through for her. But even if he wasn't she just wants the information on her date so she can get in contact, make the arrangements, and move on. It's just dinner, not a marriage.

Relief and dread war in her belly when it's finally her turn.

"Hey, Beckett."

She smiles, stepping closer. "Hey, Jay. How're we doing so far? Good money?"

She might not want to go on this date, but she does want the auction to do well. The money's going to a good place, after all.

"Through the roof thanks to you and Lopez. And congrats, you won the wine set."

Her cheeks heat up. Lopez is about twelve years older than she is, a former Navy SEAL, and absolutely gorgeous. Facsimile date or not, even Kate had considered bidding on an evening with him. She hadn't, but she'd considered it.

"Yeah? Mostly Lopez, right?"

Her friend from her days as a uniform laughs, shaking her head. She takes Kate's credit card, swiping it and waiting for the charge to process. "Not this time. All you. Your guy came in at the last minute and blew everyone out of the water."

Her… guy.

"Ryan?" He blew everyone out of the water? Jeez, how much does she _owe_ him?

"Uhh," Jay looks at the sheet, haphazardly handing Beckett her receipt. "Nope. Give me a sec and I'll print you his info. You can pick up your winnings at the other end of the table, too."

She nods, drumming her fingers quietly. "Thanks, Jay."

"No problem. Maybe you can put it to use after your date." Her eyebrows wiggle. "Alright, here you go. Your guy's contact details are at the top."

Thanking her again, Beckett snatches the paper out of her hand. Dread gives relief a one-two punch in the pit of her stomach and she forces herself to look.

Shit.

She's going on a date with Richard Castle.

–

 _A/N: Yes, you read that right. I am writing_ another _ficathon story. This story is based off of a prompt I received that asked for a story set in the 7x06 AU-verse where there had been no "visit" from "our" Castle to push Castle and Beckett together. This is my humble offering. I hope you'll enjoy this journey as well!_


	2. Chapter 2

_You guys have absolutely blown me away with the love for the last chapter. I have a particular fondness for the Canon-AU-verse and I'm so excited to explore a version like this. Thank you all once more!_

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Two**

* * *

"What about this one?"

Disdain clouds her friend's face as Beckett brandishes yet another dress from the back of her closet. It's brand new, tags still on it, but Lanie just wrinkles her nose.

"Only if you're going to a 90s throwback mixer? That's the only place that color is acceptable."

Rolling her eyes, Kate tosses the offending dress onto her bed, contributing to the ever-growing pile of rejects, before turning back to her closet. She has other dresses, she does not need to jump into Lanie's bag of potentially questionable suggestions just yet.

"Fine. What about this one, then?"

It's more sedate than the one before it – though anything is more sedate than fuchsia – but it, too, is met unfavorably. Her shoulders sink.

"Lanie, what do you want from me? It's a dress. It's black and white. It doesn't look awful on me, and it's –"

" _Boring_ , Kate Beckett. It's the dress equivalent of watching paint dry."

She shifts, lowering the dress to try to see what her friend sees. "Ouch."

Lanie softens a tad. "I'm just saying you would be wasting an opportunity to show how sexy you are underneath those boring power suits if you wear that dress. That's a dress you wear to have lunch with that crazy weird aunt of yours."

Kate snickers. Aunt Theresa. Well, she's not wrong about that. She would wear this dress to lunch with her.

"But," Lanie continues, getting her attention again. "It's not a dress you wear for a date with a handsome –"

"Smug, cocky, annoying –"

"Handsome," Lanie emphasized, eyebrows raised, "author who found you intriguing enough to pay a ton for a chance to date you."

"Ugh." It's all she can really muster. "You know he tried to get me a drink and when I clarified whether he was there with someone, he suggested we could all be there together? I don't _want_ to be his date."

Her friend's head bobs in concession. "Okay, that's less attractive, I'll give you that."

"Uh huh," she hums triumphantly.

"But, this could still be a fun evening if you want it to be."

Scoffing, Kate shifts her weight, adjusting her towel to compensate for gravity's pull. "How?"

"Well for one, your meal is free. Your wine is also free, and you won't be sitting around here in yoga pants reading a novel you've probably half-memorized by now. _Plus_ , you'll finally have the chance to yell at the source for killing off your literary boyfriend."

"Funny. Derrick Storm was just a character, nothing else."

"Right." Her friend sighs. "Kate, you need a night out. You work from practically dawn until well after dark most days. You don't go out with me unless I force you, and Javi tells me you're still avoiding them. Look, I know you feel… like maybe you can't have friends anymore since you were promoted, but you need to let yourself have fun for just a little while, even if it's not with us."

Lanie is right. She's absolutely right, and it sucks to admit that. Beckett works hard, long hours, almost penance for how much she'd made everyone else take on initially. She doesn't date – no time – and tonight _is_ probably the first time she's seen Lanie for something other than a case in ages.

"Besides," Lanie continues, tapping her chin. "Asshole or not, you have every one of Richard Castle's books, including the last one you love to harp on. This is your shot. He's cocky? Give him a piece of your mind about all the inaccuracies you've read from him over the years. Nobody's saying you have to become his number one groupie – though your shrine might suggest you already are – just embrace the you from five years ago who wouldn't admit to being pissed about missing the chance to work a case with him."

"Okay, okay, fine. You're right. I'll go. No promises to enjoy myself, but I'll go."

Lanie rolls her eyes, but nods. Apparently it's enough of a compromise for her. "Good. Now you need to step away from the sad wardrobe you're poking through and look at what I brought."

She thrusts the bag in Beckett's direction, waiting until she takes it to continue, "Pick one, I don't care which. I'm going to do us both a favor and get most of _these_ ready to donate."

Kate watches helplessly as her friend scoops up her discard pile, save for a few items, and disappears. Great, now she's going to have to shop before the next dress-worthy event.

"Fine. And as for that crack about me being a groupie, I'll have you know that I used his last book as a doorstop when I moved in here," she calls. "I barely even managed to finish it."

"Uh huh. Stop stalling and shimmy into something. If you're not dressed by the time I get this pile into a bag, I'm dressing you myself. In _my_ choice."

 _Fine_. Dumping the contents of Lanie's bag onto her bed, she sighs. Without taking the time to really rifle through the selection, she settles on a navy blue wrap dress. It'll probably fall above the knee on her, and while it's classy it also has enough sheen to it to be considered interesting. It will do just fine, she's sure. Otherwise Lanie wouldn't have brought it.

She's just tying it when Lanie returns. The taunt that had obviously been on her friend's lips is thankfully swallowed with the acknowledgement that she's dressed and (hopefully) presentable.

"Well?" She twists, letting her friend look her over. She passes muster because the other woman grins and disappears into her closet for a set of gold heels she'd actually forgotten she had.

"These, trust me."

Wordlessly, Kate slips them on. At least the height helps her feel in control. The taller she is, the better; Castle won't be able to use his frame – as good looking as it is – to distract her if she's able to at least match him for height.

"Better?" Lanie lifts an eyebrow expectantly.

"Uh huh." She fluffs her hair, stopping only when Lanie sighs. "Oh what now?"

"Bathroom, Beckett, you need a curling iron."

"I don't," Kate protests weakly. "I figured I'd either leave it as is or put it in a bun on my way out."

"Nope. Not in that outfit, you're not. That outfit deserves more than your captain hair. Unless you're using it as an invitation for him to unpin the bun and run his fingers through your hair as he's kissing you sensele –"

"Lanie? Focus."

"Right. Sorry."

"Uh huh." She lets Lanie herd her into the bathroom anyway. "So does that comment mean things with Espo are on again, or off?"

"Shut up. At least I've _been_ dating."

"Booty calls count as dating?" Kate pokes her tongue out, yelping when her friend tugs on her hair in retaliation.

"Just remember who's holding the curling iron, Kate."

She laughs. "You wouldn't. You're too busy planning my life to mess up my hair."

"Mmm, maybe."

"Please don't. Plan, I mean."

Lanie's hand falls to her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Honey, you know I'm just teasing you, right?"

Slumping a little bit, she nods. "I know. I'm just already bad at this and it's a little bit humiliating in general. Even if my _date_ weren't Castle, it'd be embarrassing. This is probably going to be a disaster."

"Okay, okay, enough tormenting you for now. Deal?"

"Thank you."

That earns her shoulder another light squeeze. "Close your eyes, I want to surprise you."

Dutifully, her eyes slip shut and she relaxes into her friend's gentle ministrations. It's calming, exactly the way it was when her mother would help her get ready for important events.

"So you're meeting him there?" Lanie breaks the silence first, unplugging her curling iron and setting it aside to cool.

"Mmm?" One eye peeks open. "Oh yeah. At seven thirty. Why? What time is it now?" She's not wearing her watch and her phone is in the other room on the dresser, waiting to go into a purse for the evening.

"Almost time for you to go, lady."

Great, just what she wants. But then again, it'll be over sooner if she just goes.

"Okay, let me go get it over with. How's my makeup?"

Lanie hums, reaching around her for a brush and a tube of lipstick. A few swipes later and she declares her decent.

Time to face the music.

Her friend cleans the bathroom quickly, giving her the chance to get her bag together. It feels odd not bringing her gun, but it's not necessary and she has a feeling if she has it, she'll spend the entire evening reminding herself that it's illegal to shoot her date.

She calls to Lanie a moment later, encouraging her to leave the mess for her to take care of later. She doesn't anticipate it being a late night, after all.

"Just one more thing." Lanie emerges, holding out her hand expectantly.

"What?" Beckett blinks.

"Purse." She gestures, taking the clutch out of Kate's hand and dropping three foil packages inside.

 _"Lanie."_

"Just in case. You never know what might happen. You might actually hit it off."

Rolling her eyes, she snatches her purse back. "What happened to not tormenting me anymore?"

Lanie's shoulders lift in time with her lips. "I said 'for now.' It's later."

"Cute. But I will absolutely not be sleeping with him."

"Tonight or ever?"

Ushering her friend through the apartment, she stops to grab her sweater off the back of the couch. Lanie's sigh goes ignored; she loves this sweater even if it doesn't match her outfit and she could use the comfort right now.

"Ever. Hell has a better chance of freezing over."

Kate pretends not to hear her friend's mutter as they leave her apartment.

 _"Famous last words."_

* * *

Her plan had been to be the first one to arrive, but her "date" is already waiting for her when she exits a cab in front of the posh and probably overpriced place Castle had chosen. So much for getting her bearings and having a tactical advantage.

Still, she musters a smile, the one she reserves for politicians and dealing with the FBI, and shakes his hand as soon as she's within reach.

"Mr. Castle."

"Captain Beckett." He grins, raking hooded eyes down her body and back up. "You look lovely tonight."

Pursing her lips, she does the same to him, taking care to make her perusal as slow and deliberate as possible. Just to see if he'll squirm. He does, but not nearly as much as she'd like.

"Thank you. You look almost respectable tonight. Good job."

He laughs, opening the door for her before his hand brushes her lower back as she passes him and steps inside. The touch surprises her, spreading warmth through her limbs, but she schools her face and her breathing. There's no reason to let him know.

It's been a while; it's a purely physiological response. She will not be cozying up to Richard Castle tonight. She'll do her best to have a pleasant dinner and then they'll be able to go back to their completely separate lives. No harm, no foul.

"Have you been here before, Kate? May I call you Kate?"

"I haven't, and sure. Whatever floats your boat, Rick," she clips, taking care to enunciate the 'k' in his name, making him grin again. Apparently she amuses him.

"You hate me a little bit, don't you?"

Her eyebrow lifts. "You outbid one of my detectives and cost me an evening of relaxation."

He chuckles. "No, someone else outbid him before that. I only made it possible for you to be here with someone born in the same century as you. And a fine someone it is." Castle pats his chest fondly. Nope, no ego there. "Don't hate me for that."

"Uh huh. What about propositioning me for a threesome? Can I hate you for that?"

"I was just _teasing_."

"No," she hums, shaking her head. "No, you really weren't. Captain, remember? I'm trained to know these things."

He looks almost chastised before he shakes it off and squares his shoulders. "Kate Beckett does not share. Got it. And for the record, I prefer one-on-one, too."

Yeah, sure he does.

As soon as they reach their table, Castle takes over for the maître d', thanking the man with exaggerated enthusiasm. He helps her into her chair, his fingertips ghosting along the nape of her neck no reason other than to wind her up. Her breath stutters, but she shrugs off the touch in the process of scooting closer to the table. She sees Rick smile out of the corner of her eye; let him think he got to her. He won't get to her.

He settles across from her, draping his napkin over his lap and leaning forward.

"Now, I heard they'd made some changes to the menu since I was here last, but I think it'll still be enjoyable."

She nods idly, diverting her attention to the wine menu as soon as he begins to go into more detail about the last time he was here. With a model.

Maybe she can get him to spring for a bottle just for her.

* * *

She tries, she really does, but somewhere around the fifth story, she just snaps. She cuts him off, asking a pointed question about _him_ , not the ridiculous, arrogant people he apparently associates with in hopes that maybe she'll be able to go five minutes without hearing about a party on someone's boat or in someone's penthouse. His cooperation is short-lived, of course, because as soon as he answers her question, he shifts gears again, going back to a _hilarious_ tale about one of his summers in the Hamptons.

Needless to say, she tunes him out. She isn't proud of that, but she does, taking care to nod at the proper times, but otherwise not offering much. The questions and quips about his writing never make it out, and even the honest conversation they could have had is stymied by his ramblings.

Thankfully, they move on from dinner to dessert quickly. She accepts the offer for raspberry cheesecake, but declines coffee. The last thing she wants is to stay awake reliving this train-wreck of a date. The fact that he doesn't wheedle or attempt to charm her into dragging this out makes her wonder if he's come to the same conclusion. Or maybe he's just run out of obnoxious stories to tell.

They eat, he pays, and then he comes around to help her out of her chair. That she's able to genuinely thank him for, and she doesn't scoot away from the gentle fingertips he rests against her back as he escorts her outside.

"Well, Captain Beckett," he begins once the air hits their faces. It's a little bit cool for mid-May, but after that date, Kate relishes in it. "Thank you for a wonderful evening."

She can't echo the sentiment, but she smiles nonetheless.

"Dinner was delicious," she says instead, ignoring the way the lie tastes on her tongue. It probably _was_ a good meal, but it had felt like dust in her mouth. "Thank you, Mr. Castle."

She shakes his hand firmly, leaving no room for any other sort of farewell gesture.

"Get home safely."

He smiles, offering her a quick nod. "You, too."

With that, she climbs into a waiting cab, giving the driver her address and calling Lanie as soon as they pull away from the curb.

Her friend picks up after just four rings.

"It's only ten-fifteen. Tell me you're going home with him and you need advice."

Kate snorts. "Not even close."

"That bad?"

Slumping back against the seat, she scrubs a hand over her face. "Pretty awful. He didn't shut up. Which would've been fine, except all he did was talk about parties and trips and women, and any number of other ridiculous things. I'd try to ask him something about him and as soon as he answered, he'd go back to talking about this glamorous life he's living. I stopped listening after a while."

Lanie tsks. "Oh honey, that's brutal."

"You know besides some flirting at the beginning, he didn't even ask about me once? He dropped over seven grand for a date and I could've sent a blow-up doll in my place. And it probably would've gone better."

The sigh falls from her lips without her permission. She's not disappointed he didn't ask about her, she's not. She wouldn't have wanted to tell him anything anyway. She's just annoyed at having wasted her time dealing with such an obtuse human being.

"Maybe he was nervous?" Lanie offers after a moment.

"Nervous, Lanie? Do you talk about trips to exotic places you've gone on with other guys when you're nervous on dates?"

"Well, no, but I also know what I'm bringing to the table and I know it's good. It speaks for itself; there's no reason to market it."

She laughs at that, a real laugh for the first time pretty much all night.

"Look, he used to be big time, right?"

Kate hums. He'd been big enough. Not Stephen King big, but he'd been big time to her.

Lanie continues even when she doesn't respond. "So maybe the big shot act was a stupid way to show you he's still big time. And he just… screwed up and forgot wooing you actually involves you, too."

Her eyes roll. That's still pretty terrible. She tells her friend that as she grabs her wallet to pay for the ride. The cabbie grunts his thanks, speeding off as soon as she's closed the door.

"I'm just saying, it was a disaster," she adds, turning back to her call.

"Maybe the next one won't be. Maybe he'll go home, realize he didn't ask you a single question like he'd wanted to, accept that he's a moron, and ask you out again to make up for it."

She scoffs, shoving at her sticky apartment door. Three times now, she's asked her super to fix it, and three times now he's ignored it.

"There will be no next date, Lanie. There was only this date – for charity – and that's it."

"Maybe so. Or maybe the second one will also be for charity; the 'Cluing The Dumb Playboy Mystery Writer In' Fund."

Laughter bubbles out again. "Thanks, Lanie, but I think my next investment is going to be in a vineyard and a puppy. I can't outbid models and actresses anyway."

"Sure it will, honey. Sure it will."

Hanging up, she drops her phone onto the entry table the locks her door behind her. Her head drops back against the metal, exhaustion crawling up her spine.

She's not let down because the date went nowhere. She's not.

* * *

Despite turning down coffee at the restaurant, she can't sleep. She tosses and turns, wondering if she should've said or done something differently each time a portion of the night loops through her mind, only to remind herself that he paid for the chance to talk at her. If he'd wanted something different, an honest conversation, real companionship, all he had to do was shut up, and he hadn't.

She drifts off in the middle of reminding herself that it's his loss.

So imagine her surprise the next morning when, not five minutes after she's settled into her chair, the phone on her desk rings and it's not Dave calling with good news about her recommended promotions.

"Captain Beckett? Hi, it's Richard Castle."

Her brow furrows, but she manages to greet him politely. "Mr. Castle. What can I do for you?" She bites back a jab about how early it is and how surprising to hear he's awake after the way he'd bragged about his fantastic 3:30-noon sleep schedule last night.

"Well…" Interesting, he sounds almost tentative. Maybe he's awake but his ego isn't. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out again?"

Her coffee mug clunks against her desk. Surely he's joking. Unless he's trying to torment her. Maybe that's it, he's actually trying to irritate her and she can't do anything about it because he's buddies with the mayor.

"I um, last night wasn't a good date, was it?"

Kate takes a moment to stare at her phone. Is he drunk at eight in the morning?

Her silence must tell him enough, because he continues. "Yeah, I had a feeling that's what you might say, and I'd like the chance to make it up to you. Maybe explain a little bit… if I can."

"I'm sorry, why do you care?" she blurts, knowing she sounds like a rude imbecile in the process. "I don't get it."

"Because I was an ass. It uh, I do that sometimes. A lot of the time, really."

Well, she won't dispute that.

"One more chance?" he asks, sounding hopeful. "Or are you a 'two strikes and you're out' kind of captain?"

She's… wait, he really is serious? He wants to go out again? And apparently a third chance?

"I'm … ah," she stammers, wondering what bizarre universe she woke up in this morning if Richard Castle is both apologizing to her and asking her out.

Looking around, Kate straightens her back, finding her posture and her voice. Anyone else and she would say no immediately, but maybe if she goes out with him again, she'll be able to say the things _she_ wants to say. The things she didn't have the chance to spit out the last time.

"Okay. But it'll have to be lunch. And my pick."

"Done," he agrees automatically. "When?"

"Thursday," she offers, though her tone leaves little room for argument. She glances at her calendar to confirm that it'll work. She has lunch meetings on Wednesday and Friday, but not Thursday. "Noon, Remy's. It's on –"

"I know where it is. They have the burgers and the shakes. So good."

Her lips twist upward at that. The shakes are really good. More surprising is that he apparently eats normal food, too.

"Okay, then. Noon at Remy's on Thursday," she hums, ignoring the voice in her head that sounds like a gloating Lanie.

"Done. I can't wait, Captain Kate."

Her eyes roll at the ridiculous rhyme, but her hand migrates over her lips to hide a smile anyway. She has no idea what the hell she's doing or why she's even agreed to this second 'date,' but in spite of it all, she kind of can't wait either.

* * *

 _A/N: As always, you all have my gratitude for being a part of this journey with me. Thank you._


	3. Chapter 3

_My apologies for the delay with this chapter. I'll do my best to get back to my normal posting schedule soon!_

 _Thanks to everyone for being patient with me._

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Three**

* * *

She's almost late for lunch.

She'd been roped into a business conference call that had turned into a more personal conversation. There had been no graceful way to bow out when her colleagues asked her to tell them about the auction – and the subsequent date – so she'd been forced to grin and bear it until two of the others were called away. After that, she was able to duck out and rush to Remy's, arriving to find Rick Castle half-pacing outside the door.

She takes a moment to watch him, surveying the hunched line of his shoulders, the nervous shuffle of his feet. He doesn't look like the guy who boasted and bragged his way through dinner a couple days ago. He doesn't look perfectly coiffed, he doesn't look untouchable, he doesn't look like he's bestowing the honor of his company upon her.

Today he looks anxious, agitated. Like a man on a first date. Like he actually cares what happens.

A small part of her considers the idea that Lanie had been right and the other night had just been a monumental screw up.

"Hi," Beckett greets, stepping up behind him. She purses her lips as he jumps about six inches before spinning to face her.

"He –hi! Captain, Kate, hi."

His stutter makes her want to smile, but she smothers the urge.

"Hi, Mr. Castle. Am I late?"

His head shakes so hard, she wonders if it'll rattle.

"No, no. I was early. Really early."

"Ah," she hums unnecessarily. Giving him an easy once-over, she takes in his deep green plaid shirt and the curve of his jeans over his hips. He looks good.

Really good.

He catches her eye, the corner of his lips lifting in amusement.

"No party last night?" The dig slips out without her permission, making his face fall a little. She doesn't apologize, though. It does serve him right after the way he talked about _loving_ the nightlife.

Rick shakes his head, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he finally finds his nerve. "I owe you an apology. A couple, probably."

"Mmm, probably."

"I went overboard trying to impress you. It was obnoxious, and rude, and I'd bet the exact opposite of impressive, judging by your face."

"You're not wrong."

He nods, swallowing quickly. "That's what I thought. But I know being nervous is no excuse, and I'm sorry."

Tugging her lip between her teeth, she studies him. She could continue to let him squirm. A vindictive part of her thinks she _should_ continue to let him squirm, but she tamps that urge down, taking pity on him.

"You really thought talking about things you've done with other women was the way to impress me?"

He shifts uncomfortably, lifting a hand to push his hair down. "Well… I _meant_ for it to be me telling you about how much fun we can have. And I _did_ talk about other people, too, not just women, but –"

Her eyes roll. So much for his apology.

"But I see now how badly it came out, and I apologize," he finishes, looking sheepish again. "I'm petty and shortsighted, but not that petty and shortsighted. That wasn't how I wanted to come across."

Yeah, she'll see about that. Taking a deep breath, she studies him once again, letting him stew for just a moment or two more.

"Well, are you going to buy me a cheeseburger and a shake? Or am I on my own for lunch?"

He brightens, hope making his smile widen. "Yes, absolutely I am. Please." He stretches almost comically, jerking the diner door open with a ridiculous flourish. "After you."

Kate steps inside, nodding to a few familiar faces. She chooses a booth in the back, taking the seat facing the doorway, only to look up to find Castle watching her in amusement.

"Something to say, Mr. Castle?"

He slides across from her, clasping his hands on the table.

"Not a thing, Captain Kate. I just think it's so _cool_ how you did that."

"Did what?" She eyes him quickly.

"The cop thing. Taking the spot facing the door so you can see the entire diner. Do you see anyone unsavory? Do I need to be ready for some action?"

Beckett doesn't bother answering him. Instead, her attention turns to the woman approaching the table with a coffee and a water. Kate thanks her quietly, clasping her hands around the ceramic as soon as it's in front of her.

Dolores knows to bring her coffee first, even in the middle of the day. It's always followed up with a vanilla shake and her usual cheeseburger. Castle doesn't seem bothered by the preferential treatment, especially not after the older woman doesn't even bother to take his order either.

Well, huh. Kate hadn't expected that. Yeah, he'd said he knew of the diner, but they actually seem to _know_ him here.

Interesting.

Dolores scurries off with a wink for the both of them, making Kate smile.

"She's a sweet lady," Castle murmurs, sipping his water slowly.

"Yeah she is," Beckett agrees, tapping the side of her coffee mug. "I have to admit, I'm surprised you know her. This doesn't exactly seem like your kind of place."

He looks quizzical. "Why not?"

Her eyebrow arches. "Should I start with the vinyl seats, the fluorescent lighting, or the meals that aren't fifty to eighty dollars a plate?"

"That's," he starts, looking chagrined. "Okay, yes. I can see where you got that impression of me, but it's not… I'm not always like that."

Leaning forward, the challenge spills from her lips.

"Prove it."

"What do you want me to do? I can't pretend I don't enjoy the finer things in life, but there's no silver spoon in my pocket, Captain."

Oh, she's hit a nerve. Well maybe it serves him right for being such a cocky, smug asshole the other day. Less than half an hour of humility doesn't make up for two ego-fueled encounters.

"I'm just saying the charm you've bestowed upon me so far might work for bimbettes and celebutants, but me? I work for a living, and this is part of my world. You'll have to leave the Armani and the attitude behind if you really want to venture into it, Castle. You can't have it both ways."

Something like fire flashes in his eyes, taking her by surprise. It's almost like he's coming alive, banishing a dullness she hadn't even noticed until it was replaced with something more, something bright. Something real.

He leans across the table. "And if I'm so deeply offensive, why did you agree to meet me today, _Beckett_?" he clips, the consonants of her name hard on his tongue.

A zing travels down her spine. She likes him like this, passionate, direct, honest.

And he's not done.

"You were free and clear after the other night; you could've told me no and to get lost when I called. But you didn't. That tells me you wanted to see me, too. Even if the 'charm' I've already apologized for completely offended you, I wouldn't be here if you didn't want me to be. So why? Why agree if you have nothing to say to me?"

"Oh, I have plenty of things to say to you, but most of them aren't fit for the public to hear. Mostly I want to know which version of you is the real Richard Castle."

His eyes narrow, his indignation fading slightly.

"I don't know what you mean."

Tilting her head, Kate feels her frustration recede. "You do. You put on this act for people. The rich, dumb playboy. The flirty, but gracious author at book signings. The contrite schoolboy today. So which one's the real you? The one who brings escorts to charity balls and offers to drop them in favor of the next skirt? The one who doesn't even ask his date a single question at dinner? The one who kills a great character for no reason and practically drops off the face of the earth? Which one's really you, Rick?"

He doesn't have the chance to respond.

"Ohhkay, we have two cheeseburgers – one sans onions, one with extra pickles – one chocolate swirl shake, one vanilla shake, and two baskets of fries. Anything else I can get for you guys?"

Shifting back in her seat, Beckett feels her face flame. What is she doing? She doesn't fight with people in public. She especially doesn't fight with people she barely knows. Shit. What is Richard Castle doing to her?

Castle recovers first, wiping the shock of the interruption off his face and smiling at the older woman. "I think we're great for now, Dolores, thank you. How've you been?"

"Fantastic, honey. We've had some pretty good luck lately. Mikey's company got bought out, but the money he got from it? Enough to send us to Antigua for a little while. We leave next month and I _cannot_ wait."

Rick laughs appreciatively at the woman's eyebrow wiggle.

"Sorry to hear he was bought out, but you guys deserve that trip."

It's sincere, Kate recognizes. He really is happy for the woman.

"Thanks, Rick. And I'm gonna let you both eat, but I gotta say I'm surprised to see you in here together. I've been trying to cook up ways to get you to meet for months, but it's been almost impossible."

They sputter, speaking as one, "You have?"

Dolores laughs, winking. "I have. And you'll see why once you stop sniping at each other."

She turns to Beckett. "He's a little rough around the edges these days, I know. Be patient with him, though. You'll be glad you did."

Kate's face flushes, but Dolores doesn't give her the chance to rebut anything, turning to Castle instead.

"And don't let the seriousness fool you; this one's laugh will make your day. She's a sweetheart."

Oh god, Dolores is worse than her mother used to be. Kate's head dips to hide from the praise, only lifting it again when their waitress pats her shoulder and reminds them to eat up.

Hiding her face from Castle, she watches her go.

"I…"

"What just…"

For lack of anything better to do, Beckett laughs. She just laughs.

Castle turns to her, no doubt baffled by her response.

"What's so funny?"

Making a valiant attempt to compose herself, Kate tugs her plate closer. "You mean you don't find it funny that our waitress was talking us up to each other? Or that she's apparently been looking for ways to set us up for _months_?"

That gets him, too, and she sees the tips of his ears turn red as he laughs. Oh, that's kind of cute.

"Well, Dolores is one of the best judges of character I've met in a while… maybe we could call a truce for her sake?"

He offers her a fry from his plate, an olive branch of sorts, and she only hesitates for a moment before accepting. He takes the fry she holds out, too, smiling softly.

"Sorry… for what I said about you," she murmurs, head dipping in contrition.

Castle lifts a shoulder, some of the mirth slipping off his face. He looks down at his burger. "I'm just glad you didn't shoot me."

Beckett laughs quickly, taking a bite of her burger. God, she's starving.

"My gun's in my desk at work. I locked it up to be safe…"

"Oh… well, thanks." He glances over, checking her face to gauge her seriousness. Oh, he isn't quite sure if she's kidding or not.

Her eyebrows lift in challenge, but she says nothing to confirm her seriousness.

They make it halfway through their burgers before they speak again.

"So, youngest woman to make captain," he starts, sipping his water to clear his throat. "That's quite an accomplishment. What's it like?"

"It's…" Her brow knots. Well, she had wanted him to show _some_ interest in her. Just maybe not with that question. That's a question she doesn't know how to answer. And since Castle is friends with the mayor, she can only assume at least some of what she says could eventually get back to him and then to the rest of the people she answers to at the NYPD. Showing discontent could be career suicide. "It's different from what I expected it to be," she says, settling on a diplomatic answer that's still mostly the truth.

With his burger halfway to his lips, Rick looks a little bit silly, but definitely intrigued. She just smiles.

"How so?"

Yeah, now he asks the tough questions. "Well… I thought I'd stay more involved in the day to day things, but there's no real time for me to be part of investigations. I get updates, and sometimes I can offer my input, but for the most part my detectives do the real work and I just handle the politics and the paperwork. There's more of a wall between us than I thought there would be."

Castle nods thoughtfully. "You miss the action."

She misses many things. "A little bit, yeah." Working cases is a rush, getting to the heart of the mystery soothes her, smooths the ragged places inside her. Without it…

"That has to be hard," he offers.

"It's different," she repeats, lifting a shoulder. "I've gotten used to it, though. Accept the things you cannot change, you know?"

He nods again. "I worked a case with the police once. It was your precinct, I think. Five years ago? Almost six?"

"Yeah," she says, dipping her head. "It would've been my case, actually, but I was out of town."

Even now she doesn't regret the trip, the chance to connect with her father after all of their difficulties, but the 'what ifs' still echo sometimes. What if she had met Castle then? What if they had worked that case together? Would anything have come of it?

"Really?" His eyes brighten. "Because Detective McNulty was cool and all, but you would've been _so_ much cooler."

She's pretty sure he would've driven her insane, but it could've been a fun kind of insanity. Or it could've been insufferable, and she might've absolutely hated him.

"People died, Castle. It wasn't exactly supposed to be fun."

"Well I'm not saying we would've had a pool party at the Pitney crime scene, Beckett, but think about it. We could've had stakeouts and built theory together. That would've been so cool. And since you know my books, I bet you would've noticed the details weren't right, too. I had to point it out to the others. It's what led them to Harrison Tisdale."

He's bragging again, but this time she finds she doesn't mind as much.

"Who says I know your books that well?" she teases, leaning her cheek on her hand. "Maybe I just now _of_ your books."

Castle slurps his milkshake, his lips turning up impishly around the straw.

"I would believe that had you not mentioned both Derrick Storm and my book signings when you were yelling at me before. Plus, you know an awful lot about me and what I do outside of my books, Captain. So that tells me you are a fan."

Narrowing her eyes, she lifts a fry and shoves it into his mouth.

"Shut up."

He laughs, chewing quickly. "It's okay, you know," he teases, licking salt off his lips. Kate swallows, ignoring the way his tongue slides over his flesh. "I don't mind it if you stalk me a little."

"Yeah, I'll bet you don't," she mutters. There's no malice behind it, though. Now that he's letting her get a word in edge-wise, he's truly not terrible. "But to be honest, fine, I _may_ know your work."

"Uh huh," he hums. "Which signing did you come to? Or should I say signings?"

" _Storm's Break_ ," Kate sighs. "And only _Storm's Break_. I actually loved those books."

He nods. "No wonder you hated me from the start."

"You think I hated you for killing him?" Her eyebrow lifts. "Yeah, I'm still pissed at you for that."

He actually looks contrite. Interesting.

"Would it help if you knew why I did it?"

Sipping her shake, she raises a shoulder. "Wouldn't hurt."

Castle nods, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. "I was tired of him. Every word was a fight."

"Tired of him," she repeats. "You killed a great character because you were what? A little bored?"

He sighs, looking to the side. "There was no mystery left, no excitement. It was so predictable in the end. I knew what was going to happen in every single scene."

"Isn't that the point? You are the writer, after all. Aren't you supposed to know what's going to happen?"

He frowns. "Well yes, but not like that. Of course I'm going to know what's going to happen in general, but there was nothing enticing about the story, nothing new. It was just Derrick Storm doing everything he'd always done. It was mundane and I wanted it to be more than that. I wanted passion, I wanted heat, I wanted something extraordinary," he trails off, lifting a shoulder. "In hindsight, I guess it was a stupid move, but I couldn't keep fighting with him. So I killed him. The character," Rick adds for the sake of the booth behind him.

Kate smothers a smile, instead tilting her head again.

"Did you find the passion you were looking for?" she asks, nudging his fingers with hers impulsively. He looks surprised, but doesn't call her on the touch. "I'm assuming not, because…"

He looks away again. "Yeah, that was my attempt. It goes without saying how well that worked out."

In other words, please _don't_ say it. She gets it. The way _Finite Laughter_ flopped has to have been a humbling experience, even if he doesn't always show it. Maybe that's why he's kept up the disaffected playboy act.

"Well… maybe you'll find it again. That passion you were looking for."

That makes him smile. It's a soft, genuine thing, and it makes her heart flutter traitorously.

"Thanks. I hope so, too."

She smiles back, looking down at her nearly empty plate as the conversation lapses into silence again. From under her lashes, she sees his mouth open and close a few times with his search for words.

"So, other than captaining, what do you do?" he fumbles.

Laughing softly, she snags one of the last of his fries and drags it through the leftover ketchup on her plate.

"As in my hobbies? Or are you asking if I have another job, too?"

Castle curls a protective hand around the rest of his fries, making her lips twitch. Well okay then, no sharing on this date.

"Well, unless you also moonlight as a model – which would be super sexy, by the way – yeah, I mean hobbies."

Beckett laughs. Not that he'll ever know, but her model days are long over.

"Umm, well I don't really get a lot of time to do much. When I do, it's mostly reading, running, some kickboxing if I can make the class. I take walks if I just need to stretch my legs." Her shoulder nearly connects with her ear. "It's not glamorous or sexy in the least."

So whatever pinup girl dreams he may still have about her need to go. Because she's not that, not even close.

"Sounds quiet, but nice."

"Well, it's no party on a yacht or under a Tuscan sunset, but I like it." She doesn't say it to be malicious and the lack of bristling from him tells her he knows that.

"They're not actually that fun," he murmurs after a beat.

"Hmm?" She pulls away from her milkshake, swiping her condensation-coated hand on her napkin.

"The parties. They can be fun, and they can be interesting to talk about, but they can be pretty lonely, too. Lots of people, lots happening, but not a lot of actual connections being made."

Yeah, she can believe that. People can make only so much shallow small talk before they're essentially talking to themselves.

Just like the other night.

Her eyes dart to his, only to find him offering her a self-deprecating look in return.

"Sometimes you do it for so long, you forget not everyone plays the same game or gets excited about the same things. I am sorry about the other night."

Tugging on her lower lip, she nods. "Apology accepted. And see how easy a real, two-sided conversation is?"

That gets him to chuckle, a bashful smile slipping across his lips.

"Very easy. And you're very good at it."

Lowering her chin, she can't help but purr, "S'not the only thing I'm good at, Castle."

Yeah, they might not have started out on the best of terms, but there's nothing wrong with a little bit of flirting now, right?

His jaw goes slack and his eyes darken. He's into it. He's very into it.

Her phone cuts him off just as he starts to say something about finding out what else she's good at. What a shame.

"Duty calls?" he asks, swiping a napkin over his lips and easing out of the booth.

"Duty calls," she confirms, trying to wave him back into his seat. "No, no. You don't have to leave, too. I'll just pay at the counter –"

"Ah, ah, my treat, remember? And I'll walk out with you. I probably shouldn't finish everything on my plate anyway."

Chuckling, she nods. He waves her toward the front door and she finds herself studying him as he settles their bill and charms Dolores even more.

The older woman had been right; he _is_ rough around the edges. But he's also… kind of sweet, actually. Which is something she never thought she'd say after the other night.

And his ass still looks great; she'll continue to give him that.

She watches his head dip to sign his receipt, the tips of his ears pink once more.

Her eyes narrow, only to open wide when their waitress winks in her direction.

Oh come on, Dolores. More matchmaking?

Castle joins her a moment later, offering her his arm.

"Shall we?"

Kate takes it, casting a suspicious look over his shoulder before leaving the diner with him.

"What was that about?" she asks once they're on the street.

Castle looks innocent. "What was what about?"

"Back there with Dolores, what was that?"

"Oh, I gave her a really big tip and told her to have fun in Antigua."

Sure. "And that was it?" she presses, guiding him down the sidewalk toward the precinct. "Nothing else?"

"Nope," he says casually, quickly. A little too quickly.

"Castle," Beckett warns. Her hand instinctively reaches up to graze his earlobe.

"What?" He ducks away. "That was it, that was it. Nothing else."

Yeah, she doesn't believe that for a second, but she'll let him keep his secrets for now.

Somehow, she doesn't notice that he's walked her to the precinct until they come to a stop beside a patrol car and a young uniformed officer nods to her.

"Captain Beckett, Detectives Ryan and Esposito just took Mr. Coughlin upstairs. They said you'd probably want to observe their interview."

Beckett nods, doing her best to slip her arm from Castle's without drawing attention to it.

"Thanks, Hastings. I'll be right up."

The other woman nods to her, glancing at the man at Beckett's side before scurrying into the building.

Great. Now there's a chance the entire precinct will know she had a lunch date before she even gets upstairs. Looking at Castle, she feels her cheeks heat up; he's watching her like he knows what's on her mind.

"Well, I had fun today." She finds she means it. "Thank you for the burger, Mr. Castle. And for the company."

Surprise flashes across his face, followed by something she can only compare to elation.

"It was my pleasure, and I did, too. But it's Rick, please."

Impulsively, she lifts onto her toes, swiping a kiss across his cheek.

"Okay then, Rick," she clicks his name. "Get home safely."

He stutters something in reciprocation as she steps away.

"Kate, wait!" he calls, stopping her in her tracks. She twists to see him shove a hand into his pocket nervously. "You wouldn't want to … get together again, would you?"

Eagerness flutters in her belly. She does. He infuriated her a week ago, but today he's pulled her into his orbit, orienting her toward him, and she doesn't know if she wants to escape.

But that doesn't mean she's not going to make him work for it.

She grins, lifting a hand to wave.

"See you, Castle."

He cocks his head. "Is that a yes or a no, Beckett?"

Snickering, she hums. "You're just going to have to wait and see."

She takes great care to wink over her shoulder as she steps into the building.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you to everyone for every view, every share, every kind word, and every bit of encouragement you've given me for this story! I hope you enjoyed this piece of the journey._


	4. Chapter 4

_I feel like I've been terrible at keeping to an updating schedule lately, but I'm hopeful I'll be able to get back on track soon. Thank you to everyone for being patient with me! I hope this chapter makes up for the wait!_

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Four**

* * *

"Well, how did it go?"

Closing the front door slowly, Rick hides a wince behind his arm. He'd been hoping his mother wouldn't be home, if only to prolong his good mood. Really, she shouldn't be home this early; her morning rehearsals have been running until at least three each day and it's barely two-thirty.

"Hello, Mother."

"Oh, Darling, don't look so disappointed to see me. I only stopped in to pick up the costume I brought home to mend last night. Now, how did your groveling go?"

Not for the first time in the years since his mother moved in with him, he reminds himself to be patient. His mother may be somewhat brash when it comes to, well, everything, but somewhere behind the blunt approach is a kind heart. She cares, even if she tries to be flippant about it.

"My _lunch_ was fine, Mother, thank you for asking."

His mother sighs, "Well don't be that way, Richard. I was just asking if you'd apologized to that poor girl for you atrocious behavior or not."

"I apologized," he acknowledges, moving to join her in the living room. Her designer bag takes up most of one couch, leaving him to sink onto the lounger across from her. "And she accepted, and then we had lunch."

"And were there fireworks? Was there a love connection perhaps? More importantly, will you be revoking that ridiculous child's access to my home now?"

Meaning Chelsea. He sighs, the ease and warmth he's felt since leaving Captain Beckett – Kate – at the doors to her precinct evaporating under his mother's sarcasm.

They've had this discussion before; he's apparently not nearly as discreet as he thinks he is, and his late night _arrangement_ with the young woman is still a sore spot with his mother. He thinks she's hardly one to talk, given how many suitors he's seen her with in his life, but as the loft is – regrettably – half hers thanks to his poor investments, they've been trying to reach a compromise.

"It was a short meal, Mother. Very nice, but short because she had to go back to work. Plus, she yelled at me in the beginning. So there might've been fireworks but maybe not the kind you mean."

That's a lie. There were fireworks of every kind. How could there not be?

His mother arches one perfectly sculpted brow. "And do you blame her, kiddo? I'm surprised the girl even spoke to you again after what you told me."

If he's honest, he is, too. Kate Beckett is nothing like any woman he's ever even laid eyes on, and in the span of just a few hours over two evenings he nearly ruined any chance he had with her.

Truthfully, he's not sure he really has a chance with her even now, but his eyes had been open and his ego in check after their fight and subsequent truce at lunch. She might be apprehensive, but he's almost positive she's interested in whatever it is that might be between them.

And not just out of some misguided nostalgia or curiosity, either. She'd seemed interested in him, in talking about real things, in making him be real with her.

It's an odd feeling, he can't lie. The last person to really care if he was real or not lives in Los Angeles now. Perhaps that's somewhat uncharitable toward his mother since she's been right here even after Alexis chose to live with Meredith, but since her career hit its resurgence she's been far more focused on making sure he isn't an _embarrassment_ more than anything else. So, of course, the petulant side of him makes sure to create the biggest spectacles he can.

But Kate… Kate hasn't accepted that from him. Kate won't accept that from him.

"Yes, I know. It was… not my finest moment. Not by a long shot."

"Mhmm, yes, and it's good that you see that. Because a woman like that isn't going to give you too many more chances to get your act together."

Yes, he's very aware. Thank you, Mother.

His head hits one of the entirely too-fragrant throw pillows and he refrains from complaining about it, yet again. When he'd had to ask his mother to take on half of the mortgage, he hadn't anticipated that part of her "ownership" of the loft would mean floral-scented throw pillows.

His mother glances over her shoulder, heaving a sigh. "Oh, Richard, don't give me that look. I'm just looking out for you; trying to make sure you don't spoil a good thing because you felt the need to show off."

She's right, but he won't let her have the satisfaction of knowing that. Of knowing how he'd frozen in the middle of his bedroom the moment he realized how pathetic that first date had really been, or how sweaty his palms had been when he called Beckett at the precinct to ask her to give him another chance. He's definitely not going to tell her he'd tried on four different pairs of jeans and seven shirts just a few hours earlier because he'd wanted to look nice, but not like a smug, overdressed asshole. Not like the guy he'd been the first two times he'd been in Kate Beckett's presence.

No, he won't tell his mother any of that.

Rick slides a hand over his face. "Don't you have a rehearsal to get to?"

"I do, as a matter of fact. Now, cheer up." She pats his leg as if she hasn't been the cause of his mood's rapid decline, lifting her bag onto her shoulder a moment later. "If it went well, then you have nothing to worry about. And that's assuming you want to see her again, but given the look on your face, I'd say that's an obvious assumption to make."

"Thank you, Mother. You're a pillar of reassurance."

"I know. Now, your mail is on the bar. I didn't open anything, but there was something that looked somewhat important."

"Mhmm," he hums, shutting his eyes briefly, only to have them snap open as his mother continues,

"Don't wait up for me, kiddo. And if you do have _company_ , tell her to stay away from my silk robe. The cheap mascara was nearly impossible to remove the last time. But if you ask me –"

"Which I didn't," he interjects, rolling his eyes.

"If you ask me, I think you're far better off ending your… liaisons with that _Chelsea_ and focusing on what could be a glorious new beginning with your captain."

And then Hurricane Martha is off, waggling her fingers in a half-wave as the door swings shut behind her. She doesn't even stay long enough to see him accept exactly how right she is.

It's nice at first, having his home all to himself, but a few minutes later, the silence is almost deafening.

Once upon a time, he would've used the time to write, but the words are gone. Apart from a few tragically awful short stories he's buried deep in his filing cabinet, they have been for a long time.

Once upon a time, he would've used the time to cook, to find the newest, most annoying and out there dish possible, just to bug his daughter. But his antics stopped amusing Alexis years ago, so much so that she'd packed her things as soon as she graduated high school – early, of course – moved in with her mother, dyed her hair black, and hasn't looked back. She's been in Los Angeles for almost two years.

It's no secret that he misses her. He misses their laser tag games and their midnight ice cream sundae parties. He misses checking under her bed for monsters and hearing her delighted laughter when she'd come home with an A. He misses his adorable redheaded baby, his pint-sized partner in crime, his smart as a whip little girl.

But what's done is done. Alexis has her own life now and it doesn't involve him.

Digging his phone out of his pocket, he considers sending his daughter a text, just to say hi, but he knows it'll probably go unanswered. Most of his texts do. Too many times in the last few years, he's let the party get the best of him and his daughter's been the unfortunate recipient of his drunk texts. Now he's pretty sure she clears the notification without even looking at the message, no matter what time of day he sends it.

Heaving a sigh, he pulls himself up, resting both feet on the floor again.

Well, so much for the tentative lightness he felt earlier. Instead, his failures tick themselves off one by one: Alexis's absence, the stupid scented throw pillows, a portrait of his mother over _his_ desk, even his final novel mocking him from the coffee table.

Why is that even out? Because he's a glutton for punishment sometimes?

Lifting the novel, he can't help but flip it over, letting his eyes skim the "rave reviews" on the back.

 _Richard Castle's departure from the genre that made him a household name is every bit as intriguing as you may think!_

Intriguing as in "why had he written that garbage?" Yes, absolutely.

 _Castle proves that, once again, there's no stopping him when he puts his mind to something._ Finite Laughter _delivers._

Delivers what, exactly? Indigestion? A waste of time? A heaping pile of disappointment?

 _Castle redefines himself and we redefine our idea of great literature._

Yeah, he'd redefined himself right into early retirement. Right into being humiliated in the press, humiliated on _The View_ , and years later potentially humiliating himself in front of a gorgeous woman.

He thinks back, picturing her face as they'd talked about it. Her eyes had been soft, understanding, but not pitying.

She hadn't pitied him, or how far he'd fallen. She'd just listened. She'd let him talk it out.

Rick stands, taking the book with him to the kitchen. He doesn't stop to think before he yanks the trash open and deposits the offending piece of fiction inside. It lands near the bottom of the bin with a dull, yet satisfying thud.

There are still copies everywhere in the city, possibly the world, but disposing of this one helps.

He wrote it in a fit of frustration and he hates everything about it. Now it's out of his house.

He feels lighter already.

Excitement flares in his belly, rushing into his chest with enough force to knock him back.

He should've let Alexis throw the book away years ago. She'd wanted to. She'd offered to do it for him a couple times, but he'd always refused. He shouldn't have rebuffed her efforts.

His fingers curl around his phone again, bringing his daughter's contact information up before he second-guesses himself. He won't call, but she deserves to know.

 _Hey, Pumpkin. Did something good today, I think. I tossed the book in the garbage like you wanted. A little late I know, but it feels good._

She doesn't respond, but that's not unexpected. It's the middle of the day in LA; she's probably at work. Even if she isn't, even if she doesn't answer him at all, maybe it's enough to hear that he finally did it.

A part of him wonders if Kate will find it as freeing as he did, and he snaps a quick picture of the novel nestled amongst a banana peel and a used coffee filter. The caption to the text requires more thought, but he settles on something light enough to be funny, but not unnecessarily flippant.

 _Our talk earlier got me thinking about doing some housekeeping. I'd say it's a good place for this, don't you think?_

Her response comes almost immediately and he's absurdly glad he called her at work on Wednesday to ask for her cell phone number.

 _To be honest with you, I used mine as a doorstop when I moved into my apartment._

He laughs, praising her ingenuity before setting his phone aside and reaching for the stack of mail his mother mentioned.

It's mostly junk. Credit card offers he doesn't need, a reminder of his upcoming dentist's appointment, an extremely late birthday card from someone he can't even remember. The envelope from his financial planner catches his eye, though. He gets the notices in his email, the typical monthly statements and notes from Jason, but snail mail from the man is rare.

Well, he's certainly intrigued.

Peeling it open, he finds a small pile of papers, earning statements, he thinks, and a cover letter. Skimming the statements first is probably a bad idea, because he has a sinking feeling he knows what's coming in the letter.

He has spent a _lot_ lately. More than a lot. And he's being assessed a penalty for it? Oh, for… okay, yeah. Another mistake he'd made at the auction. He _had_ the money, but he had accessed it the wrong way, and they'd had no choice but to slap him on the wrist for it. It's not terrible, but given that his finances _have_ taken a hit in recent years, it's not the smartest use of his money.

Despite the ending he gave him, the royalties from the Derrick Storm books keep him afloat in the wake of poor investments (namely parties, ponies, and alimony) and for that he's grateful. But even with that money coming in, if he's reading the spreadsheets right, he needs to be careful.

No, not just careful. He needs to get his act together. He doesn't want to be broke and living off his Broadway actress mother for the rest of his life.

Starting today. He's getting his shit together starting today.

The hand that had automatically been reaching for a tumbler to fill with scotch halts, his fingers curling into his palm.

Step one: no more day drinking. He's not in college anymore, it's not cute or funny for his mother to come home to find him plastered and drooling on her prized damask sofa.

Step two: finances. Maybe Jason has a new investment strategy for him. Of course, in the meantime, he can stop spending so much and so poorly. No more throwing parties just for show, no more paying women for their company, and no more using charity events as his personal confidence booster.

Step three: find his passion. Maybe it isn't writing anymore, but there has to be something. Maybe it's law? Maybe it's woodworking – though, to be fair, he's not really a fan of splinters or sawdust – maybe it's running his _own_ charity. Or, hell, he might even give rodeo clown a shot. There just has to be something. And he needs to find it.

Beckett's approving smile flits through his mind. Well, he assumes it's her approving smile. So far he's seen her flustered smile, her 'so hungry she could eat a bear' smile, and her teasing smile – and all are incredibly sexy – but approval would be new.

Maybe he'll get to see it the next time they meet.

For now, he settles at the bar, looking for Jason's contact in his phone. If he can meet with him today, he can get the ball rolling on all of this.

* * *

It's a good meeting. More than a little bit brutal, but he supposes he deserves it after taking almost ten grand out of his account without notice so he could bid on a date with Kate Beckett.

At least the story had amused his old friend. It certainly hadn't surprised him in the least; even at Faircroft, Rick had been the only one brave enough to do stupid things to get attention. Some of his schemes worked out better than others - the best and worst example being the cow that got him kicked out - but they were always fun.

Jason was a good guy, though, even then. They'd stayed in touch even after he'd been asked to leave the school, and when Jason had become a financial planner, Rick had been one of his first clients.

In return, Jason's been working hard for him ever since. And together, they created a plan to get him back on track.

For one, he's on a spending freeze. Small purchases are okay, but only up to a few hundred dollars each month, until some of their investments start to show better returns. He'll be treating Kate a bit more economically than he typically would (assuming that wink meant what he thinks it meant) but he'll still be able to treat her.

She seems to like doing things modestly anyway.

In all, he's glad they had the meeting. He's been out of control for too long, it's time to get himself together.

His phone buzzes from his breast pocket, stopping him short. It's probably Jason with the electronic copies of their new agreements. His first instinct is to let it wait until later, but he's under strict orders to _actually_ read them this time, so he ducks around a group of girls taking in downtown and grabs his phone to check.

 _I have a meeting at 1PP in the morning. Early. Think you can put your big boy pants on again and meet me for coffee?_

He laughs. His big boy pants. Maybe he shouldn't have told her about spending his days in his underwear so soon.

 _Pick the place, Captain Kate, I'll be there._

He can picture her trying to contain the tiny upward curl of her lips, pretending she doesn't like the affectionate nickname.

Her reply comes a moment later. He makes a note of the location and time, groaning internally at the early hour, but doesn't argue with her. It's a test of sorts, and he's going to make sure he passes.

 _See you there._

Challenge accepted, Beckett. Challenge accepted.

Her final reply comes a moment later, somehow sexy even in text.

 _Can't wait, Rick._

* * *

He's still muzzy with sleep when he arrives at the coffee shop the next morning, but the fog lifts when he sees Kate. She's at the counter already, slipping a dollar bill and a few coins into the tip jar.

How the hell does she look so sexy and put together so early?

"Morning, Mr. Castle," she hums without turning, his surname like a song on her lips.

"Captain," he greets, joining her at the counter. His lips skim the delicate skin at her cheek, watching her flush pink.

"You're here earlier than I expected," she adds, offering him a slow smile.

"And yet you were ordering for me anyway," he teases, stepping back to retrieve the travel cups from the barista.

Kate laughs softly, taking hers from his hand, letting their fingers brush. "What can I say, I was optimistic."

He offers her a lopsided grin. "What can I say? I was motivated."

They settle in plush chairs at the back of the cafe, sipping, savoring the caffeine jolt.

"So…" She smooths her skirt over her knees. "What made you decide to toss the book like that?"

"I figured it was time to let go. Stop letting it mock me."

She smiles, shifting in her seat, orienting toward him. "Good. That's good. You shouldn't let it have that power over you."

"Hard not to, but you're right."

"Mhmm, yes I am." Her lips quirk playfully.

He tilts his head, feeling his own lips curve. She brings it out in him, the urge to smile. "Speaking of that god-awful piece of trash, a doorstop? Really?"

Kate laughs, sipping her coffee. "I'd already read it, at least. But yeah, it was just heavy enough to be useful."

He snorts. "Glad it was good for something."

Her hand slips across the armrest, brushing his forearm gently. Startled, his eyes jump to her fingers, cool and slim against his skin, before he focuses on her face once more.

"Rick. Your books are good for _far_ more than that, trust me. Your books do more for people than you know. Just… maybe not that book."

She's so soft, so earnest, he can't help but swallow back any self-deprecating comment he might have made in return.

"Thanks, Kate. I knew you had to like me a little bit."

Kate's head dips, her cheeks that familiar shade of pink again. Her thumb makes another slow circle against his skin.

"Your _books_ , Castle."

Uh huh, he'd believe that if not for the gorgeous flush moving down her neck.

"And yet here we are," he hums, leaning into her personal space a little bit more.

She chuckles, squeezing his arm. "Shameless. The sun's barely up and you're already shameless."

"I think you like it a little bit, Beckett."

"I'm just wondering if you'll ever not be flirting with me."

"Maybe when I'm dead," he answers automatically, chuckling when her eyes roll. "And that's a soft maybe, too. I might actually haunt you just to flirt with you."

She huffs, shifting back against her chair. "Drink your coffee, Rick. Drink your coffee."

Rick grins, lifting his cup to his lips. "So your meeting today, can I ask what it's about?"

Kate shifts, her fingers falling away from his arm completely. "I recommended people for promotions and today I'm going to make sure they get them."

Determined. He likes that about her.

"I don't know if you met them at the benefit, but the detectives who did my introduction? They're the ones I recommended. They were my team before I was promoted and they've had to take on a lot since then, so I … want to give something back to them, I guess. If that makes any sense?"

"It makes total sense," he assures. "And I think that's really good of you to do that for them."

"Thanks. I thought my boss was on board, but now it feels like he's fighting me because they were my team," she sighs, sipping her coffee, taking the opportunity to gather her thoughts. "I feel like he's going to tell me I need to put someone else up for promotion first. So nobody can claim impropriety or favoritism."

Rick lifts an eyebrow. "And that's not improper? Doesn't that defeat the purpose of promotions based on merit?"

To his surprise, she just laughs. "It would seem that way, wouldn't it? But it's all part of the game. And since my captain," she exhales almost wistfully before shaking her head at herself. "Since my captain greased a few wheels to get me here… it's been suggested that I play by the 'rules' for a while."

"So, of course, you're doing the opposite in this case," he observes, watching her eyes settle on him again, back from whatever memory she'd found herself reliving.

She lifts a shoulder, her smile almost impish. "Gonna try anyway. Doing it their way may be unavoidable, but at least it'll show them I can play the game, too."

His fingers curl over hers, squeezing quickly. "You'll get it done."

"Thanks, Rick." She thumbs his knuckle once before twisting her wrist to see her watch. "I better go, first one in gets the most attention."

Disappointment settles in his belly. As early as it is, and as tired as he'd been before he arrived, this has been great. Just sitting, talking, being normal with her. He doesn't want it to end. He's spent time with many women in his life, but he's never felt himself come alive the way he does when he shares a few minutes with Kate Beckett. And that scares the absolute hell out of him.

Beckett drains the last of her coffee and stands, looking down at him with a fondness that's unexpected. It's almost as if she's reluctant to leave, too.

"One more for the road?" she offers, pointing to his empty cup. She plucks it from his fingers before he has the chance to formulate a response.

"Oh, um, sure. Thanks," he calls to her back after the fact.

She grins over her shoulder, stepping into a patch of sunlight that somehow transforms her entirely. Gone is the stern woman he'd harassed at the benefit, gone is the captain explaining the politics of her position, in her place is a woman so gorgeous, so ethereal, he forgets to breathe.

He'd wanted an evening with the stern woman just to see what it would take to make her smile. He'd wanted to know more about her job because it's fascinating for someone with her background to be where she is. But none of that compares to how badly he wants to know the goddess in front of him right now.

He can only hope he doesn't screw it up.

* * *

 _A/N: I cannot even begin to thank you for every last bit of support you've given me for this story so far. I squee, I laugh, I jump for joy with every favorite, every review, every follow and share. Thank you all so much. I only hope this story continues to entertain._


	5. Chapter 5

_You guys are far, far too good to me. Thank you all for your wonderful words and for being patient with me as I've been handling life's craziness._

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Five**

* * *

She's being rude and she knows it.

She should be listening to her friend, focusing on the story of the alleged showdown between Perlmutter and Javi over a dance number, of all things, but she keeps drifting. She keeps curling her fingers around her phone and checking less-than subtly to see if she has any new notifications. Any new messages.

Anything from him.

She can pretend she's checking for work purposes, but it wouldn't be the truth. She's waiting to hear from him, waiting for another silly _"What do you think my mother would do if I bought this?"_ text. Waiting for a request to see her again.

So far they've been trading off invitations. Sometimes it's coffee in the morning, sometimes it's grabbing a bite to eat at lunch time or after work. He surprised her the other night, late, with the invitation to take a walk. They'd met halfway between their apartments and walked together, no destination in mind, barely even speaking. When his knuckles brushed hers, she hadn't hesitated to offer him her hand and lace their fingers together.

She can still feel the press of his palm against hers.

"Castle and I are dating," she blurts as Lanie pauses to sip the martini concoction she's been crowing over since they arrived. "Rick, I mean. Richard Castle. We're dating. I think."

Lanie tosses her head back, chortling at the ceiling. A few heads turn, but in the crowded bar, one woman laughing hysterically isn't exactly uncommon.

"Honey, I could've told you that about three weeks ago. Four, if I really think about it."

 _Four_ weeks? No. No, no, four weeks ago was just barely after she stopped wanting to strangle him for being an ass. Four weeks ago was when she'd – oh.

When she'd walked arm in arm with him right up to the precinct and stopped to talk to Anne Hastings on her way inside.

Rookie move, Beckett. Rookie move.

"No, we weren't… that was… his apology lunch."

Lanie snorts into her drink. "That was the start of your relationship, Kate Beckett. Do not lie to me."

"It wasn't. That was him apologizing to me for being a complete jackass. He walked me back to work, that's all. That was not the start of our relationship."

"Uh huh. Fine. If not that day, then definitely when you started coming into work with a coffee cup in your hand and stopped looking like being there was a chore."

Her eyes narrow. "Who told you that?"

Lanie scoffs. "Who else, Kate?"

She sighs, tapping her wine glass. "Javi."

"The man's a bigger gossip than I am. Also I told him to let me know when you started coming into work looking like you've been thoroughly ravished the night before."

Kate throws a napkin at her. "I have _not_ been coming into work looking like that. No more than you have."

"How do you know?" One shoulder lifts.

"Because your gossip partner in crime doesn't walk around looking like the cat that ate the cream, and you're not with anyone else right now. So unless one of you is doing something wrong…"

Lanie kicks at her under the table.

"Uh huh, that's what I thought," she teases. "There's no ravishing. Rick just… he keeps asking me out, and I keep asking _him_ out, and we just keep seeing each other."

"Uh huh. That's called dating."

"Is it? I mean, it sounds like it, but it's… is it really? We haven't talked about any of it. We just kind of keep meeting."

"Girl, you go on dates every other day practically. And you've been checking your phone all night like you're expecting to hear from him tonight, too."

"I –"

"Don't try to deny it, Kate. It's okay, I'm not offended. I'm glad he stopped acting like an ass and showed you he's a decent person – and can I just say that I was _right_ about that?"

"Yeah, yeah, you told me so. I get it."

Her friend grins. "So you're dating Rick Castle. Congratulations."

"Thanks." Her lips lift a little bit. She really is dating Rick Castle, shit.

"Wait just a second, what's that look for? This is a good thing, Kate. You getting out of your head for a little while is a _good_ thing."

"No, I know, I know. It's fun. He's fun. He makes me laugh constantly, but he's sweet, too. Like little boy bringing the teacher an apple sweet. Yeah, he can be cocky and smug, but that's just for show."

"I sense a 'but' coming," Lanie hums.

She shakes her head, sipping her wine. "No, no buts. It really is good." It's just overwhelming, too.

Lanie's eyebrow soars. "No buts? No looking for reasons to call it quits before it begins or hiding behind your shiny captain's badge to keep your distance? Who are you, and what have you done with Kate Beckett?"

Well that stings. It's the truth, but it stings.

"Ouch," she murmurs, grabbing a chip from the basket between them. "I've apologized for that, Lanie. And I'm trying to make it up to the boys, too."

"I know," the other woman says, patting her hand gently. "I forgive you, and I'm glad you called me to come out tonight. It's been way too long."

"Yeah it has," she agrees, relaxing into her chair. "Anyway, sorry. I just had to get that off my chest. So Perlmutter's a secret dance aficionado? That's what our takeaway is from that situation?"

Lanie laughs into her hand. "Hell if I know. Knowing Perlmutter, he's probably a champion ballroom dancer and we'll never find out. But I'm surprised Javi knew what he was even talking about. That boy has some explaining to do, because if he's going dancing without me, I am going to hurt him."

Beckett shakes her head, pursing her lips to hide her indulgent smile. Of course she is.

"He _knows_ I love to dance," Lanie adds, sniffing haughtily.

"Take him tomorrow night," she suggests, nibbling on another chip. "They're working in the morning, but unless they catch a case, they should be done by seven."

Her friend lights up. "I just might do that. And I won't ask you to come along, because I think you and your boy need to spend a little more private time together before we start double dating."

Kate snorts. "Yeah, my _boy_ and I appreciate that, thanks."

"Mhmm. Speaking of thanks, did I tell you what my intern brought me the other day to convince me to let him stay on after the summer?"

"Someone's lung tissue in a jar?" she offers, snickering as Lanie tosses a chip in her direction.

"Cute. Spa passes. _Spa_ passes, Kate."

"Well that was nice… ethically a little bit gray, but nice."

Lanie snorts. "I had to give them back, obviously. And he has to go back to school."

"Sad for him. Maybe he liked you. Thought it would make a nice couple's retreat for the two of you," she teases, watching her friend start to sputter a denial. "Lanie and her college boyfriend going away together, so romantic."

They dissolve into giggles at the thought. And just like that, the breaking news of her relationship with Richard Castle becomes yesterday's headline in favor of more laughter and office gossip.

* * *

A week and three more dates with Castle later, she walks into the precinct to find a bouquet of flowers waiting with the desk sergeant.

"Cap'n, these came in for you a few minutes ago. Since you hadn't checked in yet, I didn't send them up to your office."

It's not standard procedure; typically they _do_ send things up regardless, but the arrangement is so large, it's no wonder he decided to take extra security measures.

"They checked out okay?" she asks, eyeing the blazing purple and yellow flowers – lilies, she thinks – for signs that anything might be amiss with the bouquet.

"Ran it through the scanner and poked it a little bit. Came up clean, so I left it at that. Didn't want to dig in the pot and ruin it for you, though."

A soft smile touches her lips. "Thanks, Ren. I appreciate it. They're stunning."

"Spensive, too. That's one hell of a secret admirer you got, Beckett."

Her fingers close around the card, tucking the thin paper into her blazer pocket. Not so secret, really, but if there's someone in the precinct who doesn't know – or is willing to pretend not to know – then good. She'll take it.

"Yeah, it looks like it. Thanks for holding them down here." Her arms wind around the pot, lifting it onto her hip like she would hold a child. It's the only way she's going to get upstairs without running into a wall.

Ren grins, the lopsided, gentle thing he usually reserves for her. He's been on the force since she was a kid and had taken care of her when she was a rookie. She's fairly certain he's never going to let her live down the time she'd let the words "Oh my dad used to watch that," slip past her lips, but she wouldn't have him any other way.

"Have a good day, Cap."

"You, too," she hums, stepping to the elevator and adjusting the flowers carefully. The bouquet is unwieldy, but she just holds it tighter, feeling her cheeks heat with a gentle blush. She's been sent flowers before, but never ones like this. Never this large, never this gorgeous.

Esposito whistles as soon as she steps into the bullpen. Damn, he's here early.

"Opening a flower shop, boss?"

"Har har, no. They're from a friend."

Her former teammate follows her into her office, the knowing smirk taking over his face. "A friend, huh?"

"Yes," she huffs, clearing a space by the window for her new decoration. "A friend. Now what can I do for you, Detective? Because I know you're not in here to talk about flowers with me."

Espo grins again, unrepentant. "Just wanted to say hi."

Of course. Her fingers brush one of the purple petals gently. "Well hi, Espo. What else?" she asks. There's more; there's always more.

He at least has the courtesy to look sheepish. "Need you to put in a call to the 20th. We need to talk to a guy they have in holding, but they're not feeling particularly cooperative."

Her eyebrow lifts. "They're not cooperating? How so?"

"They called dibs? Essentially, I mean. They have him for an apartment robbery and they won't hand him over until they're squared away."

So much for having a chance to get a cup of coffee and settle in first. "Is he your suspect?"

Espo's head shakes. "Friend of. Our guy's claiming him as his alibi, though."

"Well, everybody has friends. Some see movies together; some rob buildings and help others cover up murders."

Her detective chuckles, nodding. "Gotta have hobbies, boss."

She snorts. "I'll make a call and let you know. Maybe we can cut a deal with this friend. Anything else I need to know?"

"From this case? Nah, we've got it."

"From others?" She hates nagging him for paperwork, but it's a necessary evil in her position.

Espo sways a bit, trying and failing to look innocent. "It'll be on your desk by the end of the day."

"Thank you. I'll let you know what they say at the 20th."

He grins. "Thanks, boss."

She waves him off, rounding her desk to boot her computer and settle in her chair. She'll call as soon as she checks her email and makes sure she doesn't have anything in her inbox about their shared person of interest. She contemplates getting coffee while she waits, but instead, her cell phone finds its way into her hand, and her finger hovers over Castle's name in her messages.

It's not pathetic to text him again this morning if she's thanking him for buying her flowers.

She types out a short note, letting him know she's grateful for the gift, even if her office is starting to smell a little like a nursery already. He wasn't awake when she responded to his overnight texts and she doubts he's up now, so he'll have a few replies and a lopsided, sneaky picture of the flowers by her office window waiting for him when he finally does get out of bed.

His response comes in an hour later, long after she's finished bargaining with the head of Robbery over at the 20th and sent Ryan and Espo over to talk to their guy. The chime of her phone is a welcome distraction from her proofreading.

 _Glad you like them. Thank you for saving me last night_.

Beckett snorts. She didn't save him. She saw his message at the right time to agree to meet him. If her bra had already been off for the night or she'd already changed into her PJs, she would've had to seriously consider the invitation.

 _It was just ice cream, not a rescue from the Coast Guard._

She can picture his amusement at her response, the little smile he shows her sometimes. He has a nice smile. It's soft and sweet, adorably boyish, and a little bit naughty sometimes. If she's honest, though, her favorite version of his smile is when his lips turn up and the corners of his eyes crinkle in happiness, too. When his entire face gets in on the joy.

 _Believe me, if you'd seen the party my mother was having, you'd understand my appreciation. I'm not sure flowers even cover it._

Her teeth sink into her lower lip as she types a response.

 _Well, you could always show your appreciation in other ways…_

It's the most forward she's been since they started dating, but she likes the escalation. It obviously works for him, too, because his reply makes it clear that he's intrigued by the suggestion, even going as far as to ask what her plans are for the rest of the day.

Instead of responding, she gives a soft laugh before going back to the report she's writing. As much fun as it would be to text flirt for the next few hours, she does actually have to get her work done. This needs to be in the commissioner's hand – email – by two. Theoretically, it shouldn't take that long, but who knows what might come up in the meantime.

As prepared as she is for distractions, she's somehow still stunned when she looks up from her computer to see the flash of a now-familiar sport jacket passing the windows of her office.

He – _how_ did he get in here without – isn't she supposed to be _told_ when she has visitors?

She's not the only one staring, either. Half the bullpen watches him swagger to her door and tap lightly on the doorjamb, ducking his cocky, half-grin into her office.

Ass.

"Captain Beckett, sorry to drop in on you," he greets, sounding as far from sorry as he possibly can. "Can I steal a minute of your time?"

"I don't think that's a very good idea, Mr. Castle," she murmurs, covering her surprise with a not-so-delicate paper shuffle. She could turn back to her computer, but she has no doubt that he'll just stand there and stare at her. "I'm busy."

Rick steps into her office anyway, ignoring the onlookers in favor of sidling over to tap on her desk. She lifts her eyes to his, trying to summon annoyance at the way he's traipsing through her workplace. It doesn't quite work. His gaze heats her blood, sends a thrill coursing through her, before she forces herself to look away.

"It's almost noon, isn't that your lunch time?"

"It's only eleven, Rick. But you're right; noon would be my lunch time if I were taking a lunch today."

He tsks. "Captain, you need to eat. Can I interest you in a quick jaunt to the Chinese place down the street in an hour? You said you liked it."

Tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, she gestures for him to sit in the chair across from her. She can't do anything with his hips at eye level. "Yeah, okay. Just… I have to finish these things first."

His grin widens as he lowers into the seat. "Done. Take all the time you need, I'm in no hurry."

Shaking her head, she looks down at her papers. "You couldn't have waited to see me until after work, huh?"

"Not even a little bit. Besides, I sort of enjoyed having the upper hand with my mother this morning. It's the first time in a long time that _I_ haven't been the one with the raging hangover."

"Rick," Kate chides, taking care to keep her voice low. She knows his relationship with his mother is choppy and has been for some time, but he'd seemed optimistic the other day when he told her they'd sat down and really talked for the first time in a long time. To hear him describe the conversation, it had been honest and a little bit painful, but he'd seemed pleased with the outcome. Hopefully their morning hadn't set them back too far.

"I just teased her a little bit, Kate. I was on my best behavior, I swear."

Her eyes narrow. "For you, Castle, that's not saying much."

He chuckles, leaning forward in his seat. "Ooh, Castle again. I like it. Makes me feel like a cop."

"You're not a cop, Rick," she mutters, signing her name and closing the file. "Not unless you want to help me out with some of this paperwork."

Castle's hand creeps across the desk, his index finger dipping under the edge of the folder. It opens a mere half inch before she knocks it shut once more.

"No. That's confidential."

He grins again, the little shit. "I could finish whatever it is you were talking to your computer about?"

"My budget report? That's probably not for your eyes either."

His face falls a little. No doubt, he'd been hoping for something with a little more intrigue. "Sounds _fascinating,_ huh, Ricky?" she teases, tapping the tip of her tongue against her upper lip.

"Not… even a little bit." His eyes dart to her lips, but he manages to stay on task, looking her in the eye once more.

"Yeah, you're telling me. Did you know I have to account for the paper cups we give people when we interview them? If we start giving out too many, we're going to get slapped on the wrist for being wasteful."

"That sounds –"

"Tedious? Monotonous? Absurd?"

"All of the above?" he offers gamely, leaning his arm against the wood of her desk.

Beckett laughs, dipping her chin. "Yeah, something like that. Anyway, let me finish this and submit it, just to get it off my back. Do you mind?"

He shakes his head. "I have nowhere to be, Beckett."

And yet he wanted to be here. With her. Her cheeks heat at the thought.

"Take however long you need," he adds, leaning back and looking around her office curiously. "I can entertain myself."

Yeah, she's a little bit afraid of that.

* * *

Too many hours later, she finally shuts her computer off and gathers the rest of her papers to head home. Lunch had been enjoyable – as if spending half an hour pressed against Richard Castle in a booth with his fingers in her hair and his mouth working over hers could be anything but enjoyable – but it had put her behind for the rest of the day. She has no choice but to take the remainder of the work home to make sure she finishes everything in time for her weekly meeting.

A part of her wonders if she should take the lilies home as well, but the idea of carrying a full bag and the massive pot isn't appealing. Instead, she ducks into the break room and fills her coffee mug with water.

Her boyfriend sent her flowers. She might as well take care of them.

With only her bag on her shoulder, she's able to make quick work of the stairs instead of riding the elevator down. It's not the most intense activity, but she'll consider this her workout. Maybe she'll throw in some yoga before bed, but at least she's done _something_ today other than sit at her desk.

Making out with Castle doesn't count. It burned calories, yes, but not enough to make up for the spicy chicken and noodles they'd shared at lunch, and not enough to make up for the rest of her sedentary day.

Either way, it was fun. She definitely wouldn't mind doing that again soon. Maybe somewhere more private than a quiet corner in a restaurant.

"You're thinking about earlier, aren't you?"

She jumps, she'll admit it. Outside the precinct doors, no one speaks to her. If there's one thing she can expect from her walk home, it's quiet. Especially at this time of night.

But she recognizes that singsong, that teasing lilt, and her racing heart calms as she twists to find him.

"Castle? What are you doing here?"

He offers a little wave, pushing off the wall he's leaning against. She wants to ask why he hasn't been told to move, but she's sure word has already traveled throughout the precinct. Captain Beckett's boyfriend won't be asked to go anywhere, not even by an overzealous uniform on his way out for patrol.

"Was bored at home. Knew you got off around now." He takes her bag from her, draping it over his own shoulder before she has the chance to protest. No one has carried her books in a long time – ever, really.

"So you just came to lurk outside my precinct and scare the shit out of me?" she asks, arching an eyebrow in disbelief even as she takes the arm he offers. She isn't angry, not even a little bit. Just startled. He's been surprising her a lot today.

"Pretty much, yeah," he chuckles, dipping his head. She watches his cheeks darken, hears his foot scuff the concrete beneath them. He's such a contradiction; he bulldozes his way into her life, drives her up the wall, and then turns into a teenager with a crush in the clutch.

Her lips quirk, brushing the apple of his cheek. "You could've texted me, I would've let you come up. You didn't have to stand out here and be creepy."

"Sorry," he laughs, leaning into her affection. "I was uh, just people watching. It's actually pretty fun."

She glances around, trying to see what he's been seeing. Her fingers squeeze his bicep. "Spot anything good?"

"A couple of bike messengers nearly hit the back of that squad car, one of your plain-clothed guys tried to slide across the hood of that car," he pauses to point to a sports car belonging to someone who works two doors down, "only to land on his ass. He got up, brushed himself off, and left, though, so I think he was okay."

"Mmm, probably Espo," she hums, leaning her cheek against the curve of his shoulder. "He tries all the time and never gets it right."

Rick's fingers cover hers. "I can teach him, I'm awesome at it."

Snickering, she nods. "Sure, Rick, sure." He won't be meeting Esposito for a while, definitely.

He grins, forgoing more of his people watching to look at her instead. "Walk you home, Captain?"

She warms under his inspection. "Mmm, I'll allow it."

They make it just three blocks before she gives in and lifts onto her toes to press her mouth to his. He rocks back, but doesn't go tumbling onto his ass in surprise, thankfully.

"You looked like a kid in a candy store earlier," she murmurs, slipping her hand up his neck to pull him into her again. His lips part under hers, sharing her breath and her smile. "It was cute."

"When?" Rick murmurs, trailing his thumb over her jawline, the touch reverent.

"Sitting in my office, walking around the bullpen."

"It was… interesting."

Squeezing his neck, she nods. "Yeah? Interesting how?"

Interesting means something to him, she knows. It goes beyond simple curiosity. It makes him brave, it makes him impulsive.

Catching his eye, she paints a kiss over his smile.

"Intriguing. Fascinating," he answers, his lips a hair away from hers, voice barely above a whisper. "Invigorating."

Her belly clenches at the slide of his hand over her hip. "Invigorating, huh?"

"Yeah," he breathes, shifting closer. She lists into him, silently willing him to tell her more, to reveal what's on his mind. He kisses her instead, heady and slow.

"Plus, it felt nice walking through a police station and not being in handcuffs," he adds when they part again, sucking oxygen into their lungs with deep, greedy breaths.

"We'll work on your standards, Rick," she puffs, smirking against his mouth.

He presses his tongue against her lips, channeling her mirth into another kiss.

"My _standards_ are just fine, thanks," he growls.

Gripping his back, she grins. "Mmm they are now. They were questionable before."

The tease is lost in another endless, eager slide of his lips, of his hands.

Her legs wobble as she pulls away. She'll stumble her way home if she needs to, but they can't do this in the street.

Chasing her, his lips brush the back of her neck.

"Rick," she starts, gripping his hand as it skates across her belly. "Not here. My place, upstairs, inside. Somewhere. Just not here."

"Not here," he agrees, his voice a hoarse rumble against her skin. "Not here."

* * *

She's not going to get her work done tonight, but she doesn't feel guilty or remorseful in the least. Not with the way her skin tingles and long since used muscles applaud Rick Castle's creativity.

Not with the man himself sacked out beside her, his head on her pillow and his arm draped across her belly, preventing her from moving too far.

No, work can wait. Work can absolutely wait.

Her fingers skate over his hand, tracing the lines of his wrist before moving up his arm. She can't help but tease her nail over his bicep, drawing her initials against his skin.

"Mmm, hey," he rumbles, rubbing his chin over her bare shoulder. His arm flexes, pulling her impossibly closer. "Didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

Turning her head, Kate catches his mouth in a lazy kiss. "S'okay. I dozed a little bit, too."

"You did?"

"Mhmm." She did, but not for long. The excitement of having this man in her bed for the first time made it next to impossible to sleep. "Though I'm a little worried what that says for our stamina. We might have to work on it, because I have other plans for you, Mr. Castle."

Rick's lips curve against hers. "Clearly we need to work on that. Gather our strength for what's next."

"Mmm, clearly." She grins in return, easing him onto his back to hover over him. His large hands curl around her hips, keeping her from moving any further. "Why don't I get us something to eat, help us replenish our reserves? Then we can revisit this, hmm?"

He nods, teasing his fingers down the back of her thigh. "Kay."

"Kay. Now, I will be taking that," she hums, pointing in the direction of his hastily discarded dress shirt. It may be missing a button or two, but she doesn't mind. "You can keep your pants if you'd like."

His fingers curl, drawing a gasp from her lips. "I need pants to eat?" He looks up, eyes dark.

O-oh. Oh.

She swallows hard, swooping down to capture his mouth once more. "To eat _dinner_ , you do."

In a move that belies his earlier sleepiness, he flips her onto her back, grinning at her yelp.

"Smooth, Mr. Castle," she praises once she catches her breath, smoothing her hands up his arms and over his shoulders.

"Just trying to keep you on your toes, Captain," he promises, pecking her mouth once before his lips tease over her jaw and down her neck.

Slamming her eyes shut, she feels herself groan, feels her skin start to sing for him once more. Her hands press against his back, encouraging him to slip lower, to lick and tease and kiss as much as he pleases.

"Dinner can wait, don't you think?" he asks finally, his breath hot against her belly. She arches into his touch, into the delicate caress of his fingers along her thigh.

Her fingers tense in his hair as his hand inches higher. God, he drives her up the wall in all the right ways.

He punctuates his question with a gentle swipe of his tongue, drawing a gasp from her lips.

"I think – _shit_ – I think you're right."

* * *

 _A/N: As always, thank you all!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you all for your continued patience with me, as well as for your love and support of this story._

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Six**

* * *

Her boyfriend is being weird.

Well, weird _er_ than normal. He's already pretty strange sometimes, but usually she likes that about him.

For weeks, things have been good, really good. Her work schedule hasn't changed, neither has her workload, but instead of going home to her silent, still apartment and curling up alone on her couch, she's had Rick.

She's had Rick, and he's been nothing short of amazing. Both in her bed and out of it, he's been charming, attentive, never failing to make her laugh, even when she'd rather not. He texts and calls when she's at work, usually with ridiculous, silly things that force her to stifle her laughter behind her hand even as she's replying. He's even added jaw-clenching sexiness to his correspondence repertoire. Not that she's complaining.

No, she definitely isn't complaining, but if she lets anyone touch her phone in the near future, she'll have to make sure those messages (and her responses) are well-hidden.

All told, she's happy. She's actually happy for the first time in years, and she's thinks Rick would say the same.

Except for the fact that he's been distracted for the last hour as she tries to make conversation with him. The date had been his idea, but tonight he's seemed more interested in his phone than anything else.

"Is everything okay?" she asks finally, prompting him again when he doesn't respond, "Rick?"

"Hmm?" His eyes cut to hers, bright blue in the dim light. "Oh! Yeah, yes. Of course, of course I'm okay. Everything is totally okay." Rick smiles, adding, "Sorry about that. Just an email from… just an email."

An email, hmm? Interesting.

"What do you think about the salmon?" he deflects (quite obviously, in fact), reaching across the table to fumble with her fingers.

Narrowing her eyes at his less-than-suave segue, she sits back, giving her shoulders a rest against the plush seat. He doesn't need to be laser-focused on her all the time. Especially not when an hour from now, she could easily be engrossed in a book and ignoring him.

"It's delicious. The cream sauce is fantastic."

He grins. "Mine, too."

"Good." Kate trails her fingertips along his hand. "See? I have more sophisticated tastes than just Chinese takeout and Remy's."

Truthfully, she loves this place. It's comfortable without being sloppy, extravagant without being pretentious, and within the budget Castle had told her he's trying very hard to stick to until his finances are in better order.

Rick chuckles, stretching across the table to kiss her. It's an awkward position, and if he were wearing a tie, it would end up grazing the candle in the center of the table, but she just cranes her neck to meet his gaze.

"You, Kate Beckett, are a woman of exquisite tastes," he rumbles, cupping her cheek. "After all, you picked me, didn't you?"

On their first date, it would've sounded smarmy. She would've rolled her eyes and called him obnoxious. But tonight she hears the gratitude behind the smug. He's right; she had picked him when she could've sent him packing.

She lifts into his kiss, hands coming up to frame his face. The angle still sucks, but they manage somehow.

"Yes, you could say my tastes are varied and strange," she quips, smoothing her thumbs against his cheeks. He'd shaved before meeting her for dinner, but she can help but wish he hadn't. The hint of salt and pepper in his stubble looks good on him, rugged.

"Funny," he scoffs, pressing his mouth to hers once more before retreating to his seat. Kate grins in return.

"Seriously, though, you look like you're thinking hard over there. Anything you wanna talk about?"

Lifting her fork to her lips, she raises an eyebrow. It's not that she thinks he's lying, but evasiveness is uncharacteristic for him. Richard Castle has never been one to shy away from speaking his mind.

"Erm, not yet," he mumbles around his fork. "Soon, but not… not yet."

"Okay," she replies. Soon is better than never, and it's better than pretending he's not fussing over something, which is what she'd expected him to do. She can handle soon.

"All in good time, Captain, all in good time," he drawls, nudging his foot against hers under the table.

Ah, there's her focused, seductive boyfriend. Easing her foot out of her pump, her toes slip against the leather of his shoe, curling around his ankle delicately. He doesn't jolt, but his eyes brighten. They'll absolutely play if that's what he wants.

"What are your thoughts on dessert?" Kate hums, rucking his pant leg higher to tease her big toe over his skin.

Rick squirms, but offers more of his leg for her to touch. "Depends on the type of dessert. What are we talking here? Chocolate mousse? Tiramisu? Each other?"

Her cheeks heat, but she doesn't give him the satisfaction of hearing her stutter.

"Tempting as the last option might be, no," she purrs, pulling her foot back to her side of the table. "I'm talking about actual dessert. The thing eaten in this restaurant at the conclusion of our meal."

"That could still be yo-"

"Do not finish that sentence," Beckett warns, rolling her eyes. Rick's popularity may have slipped in recent years, but all it takes is one photographer looking to do a 'where is he now?' piece on him to mess things up completely. She would rather not end up explaining to her bosses why Captain Beckett had been caught in a rather – ahem – delicate position in public.

Rick grins, wiggling his eyebrows. "I think you get my point. No need to say it. "

"It's kinda hard not to get your point, Rick."

"Well, I like to be direct," he teases, sipping his wine. Well that he is. That he is. "But yes, I would love to have dessert with you."

"Mhmm, good. I was eyeing the cheeseca –"

A shrill tone cuts her off, sending her stomach plummeting. If her phone is ringing at this hour, there has to be a problem.

"It's the precinct. Hold that thought?" she asks, already getting to her feet to take the call in private.

"Holding the thought," Rick confirms, smiling in understanding. It's not the first time they've had to pause an evening together and they both know it won't be the last, either.

Her fingers curl around his shoulder, squeezing gently on her way to the restrooms.

The call is quick, almost perfunctory in nature. She knew as soon as she answered that she'd have to go in; she's just glad she'd finished her lone glass of wine earlier in the evening. Now she's clearheaded to tackle the inevitable discussions she's going to have with her bosses and the press. This case is shaping up to be a big one.

Castle looks up when she returns, his fingers curled around his phone once more.

"Need to head out?" he asks, darkening the screen and lifting his eyes to hers. Whatever it is he's doing, he seems happy still, so she won't complain about him checking his messages when she has to step out.

Her lips twist in apology. "I do, yeah. I'm sorry. Rain check on dessert? Since we haven't even finished our entrees?"

He smiles, nodding. "Rain check accepted."

"Kay," she exhales, reaching over to grab her bag. He begins to stand with her, but she holds up a hand, halting his progress. "Stay and finish dinner, please. Don't leave just because I have to."

"I can't walk you to work?" His lip juts out just a bit. He can be insanely sweet sometimes, chivalrous.

Shaking her head, she smooths his lapel down. "Not this time. It's um, this could be high profile; I shouldn't be seen strolling in from a date. That looks bad in the press. Plus, you're still working on your super-secret thing," she teases. "Better not to break that concentration, buddy."

He looks mildly chastised. "I'm sorry; I've been a bad date tonight. I'll make it up to you soon."

"You've been fine. But remember, I was a detective for a long time. I'll get whatever it is you're texting about out of you sooner rather than later."

Rick lights up, slipping his arm around her hips to pull her closer. "Can it be a naked interrogation?"

"Well I'm not going to water board you."

"Good, because that would seriously affect our relationship."

"Yeah, you could say that. Okay, I better go." She steals a kiss from him, squeezing the back of his neck and tucking her share of their meal into his breast pocket while she has him distracted. The money will find its way back into her own blazer at some point, she has no doubt, but she makes the effort to show him she's not here for a free ride.

"Call me later?" he asks, tugging her back to seal his mouth to hers. She lurches into him, breathing a moan into his mouth.

Rick slicks his tongue between her lips, retreating as soon as she opens to him. Groaning in frustration, she pushes at his shoulders. She doesn't have time for canoodling with Castle, but his kiss is so damn intoxicating.

"I'll call you when I get home," she promises, licking her lips. She can only guess how much _later_ later will be, but if he wants her to call him, she'll call him.

He exhales, nodding again.

Castle smiles as she pulls away, waggling his fingers in a goodbye gesture. She waggles hers in return, spinning on her heel to make her way to the door.

She glances back at him before she exits the dining room, almost expecting to see him watching her go, only to find his head bent over his phone once again.

Seriously, what the hell is he up to?

* * *

The shadows in his room are interesting.

She hadn't known what to expect from Richard Castle's bedroom, but everything about it fits him. It's warm and masculine, comfortable in ways the rest of his apartment (or what she'd seen of it when they came stumbling through his front door with mouths fused and hands already buried under clothing) isn't, and Kate presses her face deeper into sheets that smell just like him as sleep retreats and awareness returns.

Shadows dance across the floor from the windows that flank the bed, and she wonders if the delicate column of light is what woke her, or if something else is to blame for dragging her from the early stages of a dream. What she does know is she's alone in her boyfriend's bedroom, and she probably has been for a little while.

His side still bears the imprint of his body, if not his body heat, but she won't worry right now. Short of leaving the loft entirely, there's nowhere for him to go. It's his place, after all.

Slipping out of bed, Kate pads to the bathroom to relieve herself. His bathroom is another surprise; she never would've guessed it to be as large as it is, but he's managed to tuck it away and add all the accouterments of a luxury spa.

A girl really could get used to a shower that large. The bathtub looks divine, too, but they are absolutely going to have to talk about the life-sized Boba Fett she nearly kick-boxes when she steps up to wash her hands after peeing. Earlier in the evening, when she'd been more awake, the statue hadn't bothered her, but her pulse throbs in her ear after encountering it now.

How does he not have a heart attack every time he goes to the bathroom at night?

Making a mental note to ask for his secret in the morning, she makes her way back to bed. She hears him just as her knee hits the mattress, and he's … talking to someone? A woman?

Her ears perk in curiosity. He'd said his mother wasn't home, but who else would it be at this time of night? It has to be the infamous Martha Rodgers.

This isn't how she wants to meet the woman, but it doesn't mean she can't at least get a glimpse of her.

Tugging Rick's robe over her shoulders, she winds the fabric around herself tightly and tiptoes to the doorway between her boyfriend's office and his bedroom.

She sees Rick first, leaning against his desk, looking strangely energized for it to be so damn late at night. His bare toes wiggle against the shag carpet, distracting her briefly.

A flash of red and leopard print catches her eye and she finds herself studying the woman across from him. It takes less than three seconds of observation to note the two of them have the same mannerisms.

Definitely his mother.

"Richard, I really had thought we were over this exhibitionist streak of yours. What if I'd come home earlier? Would I have seen you and your new lady friend in the middle of the entry way? Because I live here too, you know."

Rick sputters. "There's no _exhibitionism_ with Kate, Mother."

Not yet anyway. Kate's pretty sure he's not ready for her wild streak. Well, stories of her wild streak. Her actual wild streak isn't so wild anymore; being 'the man' has made it harder for her to rally against the man.

"And yes," Castle adds, "I remember that you live here, too. You certainly never let me forget."

"Yes, well, the undergarments in the middle of the living room would suggest otherwise, Darling."

Undergarments? They hadn't… She distinctly remembers wearing her clothes until they made it to – oh, right. He'd tossed her bra over his shoulder as he backed her into his bedroom. And with his mouth on her, she hadn't put up more than a token protest.

"We got carried away. It was just an accident. A one-time accident. All future activities will take place in the _privacy_ of my bedroom."

Or his shower, or his bathtub. The master suite, at least, though making love in his office doesn't sound too bad either.

"Mmm, my mistake then," his mother drawls. "In any case, Richard, you might want to return this to your sweetheart before she misses it."

Kate winces as Martha Rodgers passes her bra to Rick. It _could_ be worse, definitely, but it could absolutely be better.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to do that."

"Good boy. _And,_ " Rick's mother pauses, gesticulating toward the open laptop on the desk. "It also might be a good idea to share about all of this, hmm?"

Rick stands straighter, tucking the bra under his arm. Defensive, interesting. "Good _night_ , Mother."

"Oh don't be that way. I'm just saying the girl deserves a heads up."

And with that, Martha spins on her heel, leaving the office as quickly as Kate's sure she came.

Beckett waits, watching her boyfriend's shoulders slump as he settles more heavily against the edge of his desk.

"I hear you have something to tell me?" she murmurs finally, curiosity getting the best of her. Rick jumps, clamping his arms tighter around her undergarment, and twisting to face her.

"Kate! Hey, hey, did I wake you?"

Shaking her head, she glides across the carpet to stand toe to toe with him.

"Woke up and you were gone. Heard you guys talking and followed you over here. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, mostly."

His lips quirk. Yeah, neither of them are very apologetic about their desire to observe things, each other.

"So that was your mom, huh?" Her fingers slip up his arm, curling in the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

"That was Hurricane Martha, yes," he murmurs, allowing her to tug her bra from his armpit and toss it in the direction of his bed. They both grin as he uses the extra freedom to frame her hips with his large hands and pull her closer. Opportunist.

Laughter puffs from her lips. "She found my bra?"

"Yeah," Rick thumbs her side through the robe. "Slipped on it apparently. She gets testy when she nearly swan dives. Don't worry about it, though. It happens a lot."

Her eyebrow shoots up, amusement flooding her chest when his eyes widen and he realizes what he's said.

"No! No, no, no. Not _bras_. No. I meant clothes. My clothes. Not… another woman's clothes. There have been no other women since - you're the only – I should just shut up, shouldn't I?"

"Mmm, probably, yes," she teases, draping an arm around his neck. "And I'd just like to say that's a smart decision – no other women."

He recovers nicely, dipping his head toward hers. "Why, Captain Beckett, are you saying you don't share very well?"

Leaning in, she takes great care to nip at his lip first, and then give him a true kiss second. "I'm saying I don't share at all. Problem with that?"

"Not even a little bit," he breathes, swiping his lips across hers once more. "There'll be no sharing of each other. Not of me, not of you. No sharing. Just us."

She believes him. Playboy past or not, weird behavior or not, she believes it's only them in this relationship.

"Good, that's very good," she hums, leaning into his chest. "And now that we got that out of the way, are you gonna share whatever it is I deserve a heads up about? Is it whatever you were emailing about the other day?"

Rick exhales, pressing his face against her neck. "How much did you _hear_?"

"Enough to know you're not getting out of telling me. I also know your mom didn't wake you up to yell at you about my bra. So what woke you?"

She feels his chest expand with his inhale, feels him steeling himself for whatever it is he has to say. Oh, he's… really nervous, isn't he?

Her palms flatten against his back, firm pressure to release the tension in his shoulders as her lips smooth along his jawline.

"I'm writing again," he admits, lifting anxious eyes to hers. "I've… the last couple weeks, I've been writing again. It started off slowly, just a few ideas here and there. Then about a week ago, it was like someone had flipped a switch or turned on the faucet, and I haven't been able to stop."

"You're writing?" she repeats, pressing closer, raking her eyes over his face. "That's what's had you so preoccupied? You're writing?"

He nods, caution muting his every move. "Yeah, I… I have a really, really good idea for the first time in so long. I emailed my publisher before dinner the other night to talk about my options. That's who I was –"

Elation floods her. Sweet giddiness has her tugging his head down to hers and cutting off the rest of his explanation with a slow, gentle kiss.

"Oh, Rick, that's so… you're writing again," she praises, unashamed of how girlish she sounds. She wraps him into a tight hug, the same tight hug her mother had always given her when she'd shared something exciting. He's writing again.

"I'm writing again," he echoes, sagging in her embrace. His palm slips against the curve of her spine, warm through the robe.

"That's so good," she affirms, holding his neck, keeping his forehead against hers. "What'd your publisher say? Did they say they'll read it? What is it? What's it about, I mean. I know it's a book."

He chuckles, letting her know she stole his smartass reply right out of his mouth.

"It's, ah, it's about you."

That stops her short.

"About me?"

Well, now she knows why his mother thought she deserved a heads up. He's writing about _her_? _How_? What the hell is he even saying? What is there to write about?

The bashful look slides across his face again, reminding her just how _big_ this is for him. He'd said the words had been dormant for years – not weeks, not months, years. To have them again has to be overwhelming.

"Yeah, about… well about your career, kind of. She's a detective, a damn good one, and she works at a precinct a lot like yours. She has partners a lot like the guys you've told me about, cases like the ones you won't really share with me, and a ruggedly handsome writer to keep her company, too."

He has to be joking, messing with her. Especially about that last part. A writer? A fictional version of him basically?

"And I hope if it does well, I'll be able to follow her all the way to captain – youngest woman to make it, just like you. It's an homage, Kate, to you."

"Rick… You can't write about me. That's not fiction."

"Well it is, because she's not you, she's just inspired by you. She's smart, she's savvy, she's gorgeous and sexy – a little slutty, too –" He laughs at her firm swat.

"Are you calling me slutty?"

"No, I'm showing you all the ways you are and are not alike. And that is a way you are dissimilar." His mouth dusts over her neck, tongue darting out to savor the spot he _knows_ gets to her.

"You're sure about this?" she breathes, arching into his chest. He shouldn't be able to make her cave this easily, but here she is. "About writing this?"

"I'm sure, Kate. I'm more sure of this than I've been about anything in a long time."

God, he's writing again. Her favorite author is her boyfriend, and her boyfriend is writing again. About her.

"What's her name?" she asks, slipping her fingers into his hair. "Your character. Your fictional me."

He kisses the shell of her ear, smiling at her answering shiver.

"Nikki. Nikki Heat."

Oh, he _has_ to be joking.

Pulling away, she stares him down. "Nikki Heat?"

Rick beams, unapologetic despite the glare she has fixed on him. "Isn't it great? It's a great cop name."

"It's a stripper name, Castle."

He looks scandalized. "It is _not_. It's a great name for a brilliant detective with haunting good looks and the ability to bring men to their knees with the crook of a finger."

"No, no, no, if you're writing about me, you have to change the name. I cannot be immortalized as the inspiration for a character named _Nikki Heat_ , Rick. Do you have any idea what people at 1PP will say about that?"

He looks innocent, driving her eyebrows higher up her forehead. He thinks of these things, she knows he does, which means he's thought about this, too. "That it's so cool?"

"Or that I'm going to be the laughing stock of the entire department." Her shoulders hunch as her voice lifts far higher than she really wants it to go.

His face softens. "Kate, you won't be. You won't be. I wouldn't… this character has consumed me. All jokes aside, I want to do her justice. Do you justice."

"And you're sure you won't stick to just _doing_ me?" Oh, it's too late to be having this talk if that's the kind of nonsense that comes out of her mouth.

Rick chuckles, smoothing his palm along her shoulder blades. He uses her own trick against her to get her to settle, to release her tension, and she melts into him almost instantly.

"Is it really an either-or situation?"

Beckett sighs, pressing her face into his shirt. "No, I suppose not."

"Kay," he hums. "You wanna go back to bed?"

She does, and she wants him to join her. "Mhmm. You gonna come too?"

He nods, thumb skirting across her back. "Absolutely. Lead the way."

Pulling away, she tugs on his hand. "You're not writing more tonight?"

"No, I finished what I needed to before Mother joined me to return your bra."

Her cheeks flame in the darkness. "That's not the impression I want to make on your mother, Rick."

Behind her, he lifts a shoulder with practiced nonchalance. "That's pretty typical for her, though. Mother and I have plenty of things in our 'never talk about again' file; I'll tell you the stories sometime."

Chuckling, she leads him back to bed, squirming into the spot she's claimed as her own while he gets comfortable inches from her.

Her foot slips over his shin beneath the covers, keeping their legs close even as they give each other space. They'll migrate together in time, finding the perfect balance of cuddling and giving each other space.

She's just managed to get settled again, head resting in the perfect spot on her pillow, when he speaks again, "There's one other thing."

Peeking an eye open, she waits for the bombshell he's about to drop. It's coming, she knows it.

"Mmm?"

"I need to come to work with you. For authenticity. To really see how things get done, see how you work and how your team works."

"Rick," she starts, propping onto her elbow and blinking down at him. "Not a chance."

"I just want to get the details right. All of them."

He looks up, his gaze more than a little bit plaintive. Her eyes slip shut quickly, fighting the urge to give in to that puppy gaze.

"I can't let you do that. Details or not, you can't just come to work with me. There's no such thing as 'Take Your Writer Boyfriend to Work Day,' you know."

Rick twists onto his side, drawing her into his embrace and tucking a knee between hers. She tries not to hum, tries not to seem too pleased at the maneuver, but given his smirk, she's fairly sure she fails at that.

"You could start one?" he offers hopefully. "And you forgot the 'Ruggedly Handsome' part of the title."

"Sure I could, but I won't." Her fingers slide against his chest, tickling up to the ribbed collar to curl against his skin. "You're just gonna have to go with the details you know, hotshot."

His knee shifts higher, distractingly higher, rocking her against him. She allows him to whisper his lips across hers, but warns him he won't manage to convince her to change her mind this way.

"Well, we're just gonna have to see about that. Won't we?"

* * *

 _A/N: I say this with each chapter, but your response blows me away. Thank you all for your time, your reviews, and your support._


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you all so much for your kind words and every last bit of support for this story! I say it each and every chapter, and I don't think it even scrapes the surface of how grateful I am._

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Seven**

* * *

The next morning, Kate wakes to the traitorous hum of her cell phone. Plucking it off the nightstand, she ignores her deliciously overworked muscles and darts into Rick's bathroom before her companion stirs. He'd worked hard last night, trying so very valiantly to convince her what an asset he would be in her precinct, she'll let him sleep this morning.

"Beckett."

"Kate, it's Dave. Sorry to call you so early."

She hides a yawn in her palm, taking a deep breath before assuring the police commissioner that it's no trouble. Truthfully, it's not even that early by her usual standards, she was just deeply asleep.

"It's no trouble. I think you beat my alarm by about fifteen minutes, that's all."

Dave chuckles over the phone, drawing a quick smile to her lips, too. Ninety percent of the time, she really does like the man. He plays the game, of course, but he understands people. He works hard for people.

"What can I do for you?" she asks, leaning into the mirror to inspect her reflection. She has dark circles under her eyes, and her voice is still a tad hoarse; the late night – enjoyable though it was – is showing. She'll need to dig her concealer out of her bag before going in to work.

"Well, I know this is going to sound strange, but the mayor called me at home a few minutes ago and asked what I thought of trying something."

"Uh huh." She swipes the sleep from her eyes, glancing at the doorway when Rick comes lumbering through, doing his impression of a bear emerging from hibernation.

He brightens as soon as he sees her, palming her hips and pressing her against the counter to kiss her good morning.

Kate turns her head at the last second, sighing when his mouth skims her jaw and trails down to her neck. She's on the phone with her boss, the last thing she needs is for him to hear her breath speed up with Castle's touch.

"What can I do to help?" she asks, mouthing for her boyfriend to behave. Rick grumbles, but doesn't continue to tease.

"I know it's an unusual request, but Richard Castle is one of the mayor's friends, and he's apparently coming out of retirement to write about one of New York's finest."

She knows this already, but it doesn't stop her heart from thundering. He's writing about _her_. He's found inspiration in _her_.

Still, she plays it cool. "Oh, he has? That's… interesting."

"It's good that you say that, Beckett, because Weldon has requested that Castle be allowed to observe you and your precinct to help aid him in writing his next book."

She freezes, fingers clenching around Rick's bicep.

"He has? The mayor has _asked_ for Castle to be allowed to come to my precinct," she repeats, narrowing her eyes at her boyfriend.

Rick looks innocent, or at least he tries to; he fails miserably. Instead of digging his hole deeper, he mumbles something about making her coffee before he ducks out of the bathroom.

"It'd be a professional courtesy. Plus, I think it could make for some good press. For everyone."

Okay, it _is_ too early for this. She'd been fine when it was all small talk, but it's too early for this.

"Of course, Dave, of course. It will be good press for the department. Whatever I can do."

"Good, glad to hear that."

"But um… since the request is coming directly from the mayor, I think it's important for me to tell you that Castle and I are in a relationship, and we have been for some time. I'm not sure if that changes anything, or if you're comfortable with him observing in spite of that, but…"

"While I appreciate your honesty, Beckett, I don't think that will be a problem. Provided you maintain professional behavior while you're on the clock."

She sighs, swiping a hand across her forehead. "That won't be a problem. And thank you for the courtesy call. I'll… find out from Castle when he wants to begin observing me – the precinct. And I'll send him out with some of my detectives, because I'm sure his book needs more action than my daily battle with Excel."

"However you want to handle it is fine with me. I'm happy when the mayor is happy."

Kate laughs softly, scrubbing her face. "I understand. Thanks, Dave."

Hanging up, she takes a moment to remind herself that killing her boyfriend is both illegal and frowned upon. Especially since the department is looking to garner good publicity from his little stunt.

"Rick?" she calls, curling her fingers around her phone. Pushing away from the counter, she moves back into the bedroom, ready to get this conversation out of the way.

He's gone, of course. The man better be making her coffee and not just hiding from her.

She dresses quickly, not wanting to wear her boyfriend's clothing while she asks him what he was thinking calling the mayor as well as _when_ he'd made this little arrangement. No, she needs to be in her own clothing, the clothing that says she will take no shit this morning.

Forgoing her heels is the only concession she's willing to make, and she relishes in the slap of her feet against Rick's hardwood floors on her way to the kitchen.

"Richard Castle, you called the _mayor_ to get an invitation into my precinct?"

At first glance, the room is empty, but a clatter from behind the counter tells her he's here.

He stands after a second, clutching a shiny metal mixing bowl to his chest. The smile he offers is sheepish, borderline adorable, and she can't help but look him over as he shifts his weight. His pajama pants ride low on his hips, the drawstring knotted just tightly enough to keep them from slipping much further. She licks her lips, skimming her eyes up his hips and along the line of his t-shirt before settling on his face again.

Being sexy won't get him out of this.

She steps closer, poking him in the chest. "You called the mayor of the city of New York who then called _my_ boss, by the way, to ask me to allow you to observe me and my detectives. And you didn't think maybe you should talk to me about this first?"

"Well, in my defense… I did talk to you about it."

"A middle of the night chat doesn't count even a little bit, Rick. Because for that timeline to work, that means you rolled over and texted your buddy Bob to ask him to help you as soon as you finished having sex with me. And personally, I'll be a little bit insulted if you tell me the mayor was the first thing on your mind after that performance."

"No! No, not even – Kate, not even close."

He abandons the mixing bowl on the counter, catching her poking finger between both of his hands.

"I'm sorry," he adds, squeezing her hand firmly. "I asked Bob right after I got official word from my publisher." Off her look, he clarifies, "Last night before you and I went to the movie. I asked him if it would even be possible. I didn't know he would call this early. I even told him I wanted to talk to you about it first… which is what last night was. Only more fun."

Her eyes narrow; his body language tells her he's being truthful – mostly truthful, anyway, there's definitely some of the Martha Rodgers drama in there for good measure – but it doesn't quite eliminate her annoyance.

"Just… ask me. Please? Like a normal person. Let me feel like I control something that happens in my own precinct."

Rick lights up, sucking in a deep breath as he settles her palm against the warmth of his chest.

"Kate. Beckett. Captain. My muse. Would you do me the honor of letting me join you at work for an undetermined period of time while I pen what I hope will be the greatest, sexiest, smartest novel you'll ever read?"

Kate rolls her eyes, but gives him a short nod. "Fine. I'll allow it. But –" she pauses, slipping her hand from underneath his to reach for his earlobe. "You'll have to fill out paperwork with HR. If I tell you to do something, you'll do that. If my detectives tell you not to do something, you will listen to them. And you won't call me your muse again. Got it?"

He nods so hard, his head practically rattles. "Got it. You won't regret this, Kate. You won't."

She kind of already does, but she won't tell him that. Not when he looks so happy. And maybe the excitement will return for her, too. Maybe the reality of being his _muse_ will sink in, permeate her bones, and leave her giddy with pride.

Intent to share his joy, his mouth covers hers. Surprise makes the kiss a little uncoordinated, but she relaxes into him anyway, cupping the back of his neck to keep him in place.

This is a much better way to wake up than a phone call from her boss.

"Okay, get dressed. I – we – should head to work. You have an exciting morning of waivers ahead of you."

Not even the reminder of paperwork dims his smile. Oh, he'll learn.

"Wait, wait, do we have time for breakfast? We should have breakfast to celebrate our new partnership – well, a new phase of our partnership. 'Cause I kind of feel like we're already pretty good partners right now."

Her stomach agrees with him, gurgling loudly enough to make him grin.

"Fine. And coffee. Where's my coffee?" she demands, looking around pointedly.

Castle kisses her cheek. "On its way. Sit, get comfy, I will whip up something delicious for the both of us."

His zeal shouldn't be this cute, it really shouldn't.

She settles at the bar, watching him move around his kitchen with almost startling efficiency. Practically before she can blink, he's placed a steaming mug of coffee – complete with a foamy heart – in front of her, and eggs are on the stove.

"How is it?" he asks, twirling the spatula like he would a six-shooter in an old western movie.

"Mmm?"

"Your coffee, Kate." He smiles at her distraction. "I went with vanilla syrup today."

"It's delicious," she assures, taking another slow sip. Usually she has hazelnut, but the vanilla is exactly what she needs this morning. "I like the vanilla."

He grins, leaning across the counter to sneak a taste of the java from her lips. "That is good. I did well."

"Yes, oh modest one, you did well," Beckett teases, pushing his face away. He pretends to pout, but goes back to their eggs without comment.

She'll blame watching the sway of his hips, but she doesn't even realize his mother has joined them until a delicate hand taps the counter beside her elbow.

"Well good morning, darlings. I see you're up early. Surprising after how late you were up last night."

Rick starts, straightening his shoulders. "Mother! Good morning. Ah, yes. Yes we are up early. Because Kate will be heading to work soon. And I'll be going with her. To work, not just because I can –" he shuts up abruptly, his cheeks darkening.

Kate hides her own discomfort with a snicker and a smile. "Kate Beckett. It's nice to meet you." She holds out her hand to Rick's mother, trying and failing to remember if Rodgers is a married name, instead leaving a salutation out entirely.

"I've heard lovely things about you from my son. And please, it's Martha." The older woman winks. "So I see he finally told you about his plans."

Rick suddenly decides to make himself scarce, burying his head in the fridge to avoid making eye contact with her. Kate shakes her head in her boyfriend's direction.

"He did. In a rather _unorthodox_ way, but he did."

Martha offers a faint smile to her son's back. "Yes, he does have a bit of a habit of choosing to ask for forgiveness instead of permission. My fault, I suppose. A few too many lessons in seizing the day."

Martha's comment seems to be more teasing than biting, but it obviously still affects her son. Things are getting better with his mother, but there are obviously still strides to be made, given the way Rick's shoulder's drop. Protectiveness wells in Kate's chest.

"Oh, I kind of think it's part of his charm," she hums. "Something about taking initiative. And I would've said yes anyway. Eventually."

Beckett smiles, sliding off the bar stool to round the corner and take over at the stove.

"Well that is good to know," Rick says, joining her with a gentle hip check. She glances up at him to find a polite and mostly insincere smile on his face. Her hand lifts to his back, making a slow swipe up spine. "Mother, can I interest you in a delicious omelet?"

"No, no. I'm on my way out; I just wanted to take a moment to introduce myself."

Kate smiles, brushing her thumb between her boyfriend's shoulder blades. "It was nice to meet you."

"It was lovely to meet you, Kate. And as an aside, I'm glad to see my son returned your bra to you."

She flushes, turning her face into Castle's arm. "I'm so sorry about that, Martha."

Martha waves her off. "It happens to the best of us. And Richard, try not to get into too much trouble on your first day, please? I can't come bail you out until almost midnight."

"Ha hah, Mother." Rick almost manages to pull off the playful look. "It's okay, I know the captain. She'll let me out."

Beckett chuckles, reaching for her coffee. "Maybe," she teases, watching Martha make her way to the door. "Depends what you do."

Lifting on to her toes, she nips at his jaw just as the front door closes.

"So… she's kind of intense, huh?" she murmurs, splaying her hand against his back.

"Mother? Oh, yeah. Yes. She's… we're working on that, or at least I am."

Her lips curl against his chin. "You're doing fine, Rick. And I won't let you get in trouble, so no need to call your mom."

He chuckles, slipping an arm around her hips, keeping her against him for a moment. She relaxes into the hug, winding her arms around him as well.

"It just takes baby steps, I guess."

"It does," she agrees, slipping her hand under his shirt to stroke his skin. "When my dad…" she trails off, shaking her head at herself. That's a story for another time.

"He went through stuff, too, and it took us a while to get back to where we wanted to be. You'll get there with your mom."

Rick smiles into her hair. "Thanks. And now, get ready to feast on the most delicious veggie cheese omelet you've ever had in your life."

Ah, the age-old distraction technique. She squeezes him gently, letting him deflect for now.

"Alright, Rick, let's see what you've got."

He grins, already reaching for their plates even as his eyes thank her for letting him off the hook. She waits expectantly, watching the lines of his body as he prepares everything just so.

* * *

He's strangely silent on the subway ride and subsequent walk to work, but practically buzzing with excitement by the time they step off of the elevator together at the 12th. It would be cute if she weren't busy mentally composing her spiel to her people about why he's here.

A glance over her shoulder tells her Castle's looking around, awe etched across his face.

"You'd think this is the first time you've ever seen a police station," she teases, tugging on his sleeve to keep him from walking straight into LT. "And I know for a fact that that isn't true."

"Wha?" He looks at her finally, blinking through a haze. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just… this place is so _cool_."

"Uh huh, come on. The team I'm going to have you talking to isn't here yet, so we'll just wait in my office."

Rick frowns. "I'm not going to work with you? Kate, the book's about you. I want to know how you work, what kind of cop _you_ are."

Opening her office door, she gestures for him to go ahead of her. Disappointment settles in her belly, though it's not entirely directed at him.

He's expecting some badass, gun-toting, sex bomb detective, and that's not who she is. She was never that, but she can't even pretend to be that anymore, not from her desk.

"Well, this is the kind of cop I am now, Castle. I sit in my office, I do paperwork, and I only conduct interviews or go to crime scenes when I'm absolutely needed. If you want actual detectives, you have to follow Esposito and Ryan when they arrive."

She turns away from him to unpack her bag and boot her computer. The gentle whir of the computer fan provides her with the perfect cover to sigh. Sucking in a meditative breath, she lets her chest open and expand, finds her center, before stepping around to face him again.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."

Rick's eyes soften. "You're fine. I didn't expect you to hold my hand and baby me while I'm here."

"I don't hold your hand and baby you when we're not here." Except for this morning. This morning she had done that, kind of.

His lips quirk. "Touché. My point is I know you're going to be different here than you are at home. I want to see that."

This time he's letting her off the hook, carefully not asking about the raw edge to her outburst.

"Okay, well, how 'bout I give you the tour before the boys get here, and then you can decide if you want to play with them or watch me work on my paperwork?"

"Kay," he agrees, wiggling his shoulders eagerly. "I don't mind watching you."

"Mmm." Beckett hangs her blazer over the back of the chair, walking around her desk to stand toe to toe with him. The urge to kiss him nearly overwhelms her, but she manages to quash it. "If that's what you want. But for the record? I find staring to be creepy."

His eyebrows lift in challenge. "Duly noted, Captain. Duly noted."

Hers lifts right back, but she doesn't take his bait. "Come with me."

She leads him into the bullpen, stopping to offer quiet greetings to a few of the uniforms milling around. She tries to know everyone by name, and she can see Rick filing the information away as well. Good. These people are her people, and she expects everyone to offer them respect, including visitors and observers.

They hit most of the major "spots" on the floor – conference room, observation and interrogation, the sitting area and break room – before returning to the bullpen to find Ryan and Esposito settling in at their desks. Espo spots them first, offering her a quizzical, yet strangely knowing smile. Right, he and Lanie talk.

She nods to him, turning her smile to Ryan. He's still busying himself – or pretending to look busy – with the contents of his desk, but she presses ahead anyway. No more avoiding him, no more avoiding either of them.

"Morning, guys."

"Morning, Cap'n," they chime in near-unison.

Behind her, she feels Castle's enthusiasm spiking. Something about the greeting, maybe?

"I'll get out of your hair in a second, but I have somebody I'd like you to meet."

It feels a little too much like introducing her brothers to her boyfriend, but she pushes ahead anyway. It's important to Rick, for Rick.

Besides, it's the first time Ryan has really looked at her in months. Probably since the night of the auction, actually. She'll take it.

"This is Richard Castle. He's going to be basing his next novel off of the NYPD, so he's here to do some research with us."

Espo grins, clapping his hands. "Oh he _is_."

Yeah, she knows where he's going with this thought process. Her eyes narrow in warning.

"Yes. He is."

"Interesting. Because I thought you were coming to tell us something entirely different. Didn't you, Ryan?"

Amusement twinkles in her former partner's eyes. "You know, Javi, I did. 'Cause _I_ seem to remember this guy from a few occasions here and there. Most notably one very large, very swanky party."

Ryan grins, genuinely this time. Fine, she'll let him have his fun.

"Yeah, yeah. Not that it's any of your business, but yes, you also have seen him around for personal reasons. So that's why I have it on good authority that he should be harmless, but if he gets too excited, just bop him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper."

Rick laughs from beside her, light and easy, sticking his hand out to the guys.

"Rick Castle, nice to meet you. I didn't look at your desk plates, so let me see if I can guess. You're Ryan, and you're Esposito?"

The guys grin, making her think maybe this idea won't be so terrible after all. "Got it in one. Nice to finally meet you. Beckett doesn't tell us anything, but we knew something was up when the precinct workaholic started cutting out early."

"Yeah, we're detectives and all. Can't hide much from us," Ryan offers.

Shaking her head, Kate presses a hand over her smile. "Okay, ace detectives. I'm going to go do my work now. And don't you dare call or text Lanie," she adds, pointing in Javi's direction. "I have enough to do today without handling your gossiping."

Javi winks. "Sure thing, boss." Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him shake his head, telling her he's probably been trying to send Lanie a message this entire time.

Castle laughs. "So the three of you used to work together? Does this mean you can tell me all the embarrassing Beckett stories?"

Ryan and Esposito exchange a look. "Oh, we _can_. Have a seat, Mr. Castle. Have a seat."

Her boyfriend scrambles into one of the bullpen's empty chairs, leaving her feeling a little like a parent watching her child run into his kindergarten class on the first day.

It takes all of two hours for them to become best friends. Every time she looks out into the bullpen, Castle and her former partners are laughing their heads off. There are open files between them, signs that they _are_ actually working, but she notices the camaraderie most of all.

She'd never been much of a joker when she was a detective, but they'd had their moments. They'd had days when there was nothing they could do but joke, and nights when the words in their files started to blur and everyone's tongues got a little bit looser, a little bit sillier. She'd had her moments of unabashed laughter and fun with her team, definitely.

Now she just has a silent office and the sounds of their amusement trickling through an open doorway.

Sometimes it sucks being in charge.

Eventually, her need for more coffee trumps the desire to mope, and her fingers curl around the cool ceramic of her favorite mug. The boys are laughing about something – maybe the same something as before, who knows – when she steps out, but Rick's head turns like he just knows she's there.

It's sweet.

Beckett smiles, nodding to the three of them on her way past their desks.

She's only mildly surprised when Castle follows her.

"Hey," he greets, leaning against the counter to watch her prepare her mug. "Those guys are so cool."

Smiling down at the coffee maker, she nods. "Yeah they are. They're good guys. Good cops, too."

He nods, reaching for one of the mugs on an open shelf by her head. "May I?"

"Sure. Here, you're going to want this, too." Kate passes the cream and sugar over, lifting her mug to her lips for her first sip. He wants the authentic police experience? This is the authentic police experience.

She manages to hide her grimace, not wanting to sway Castle's opinion, but it's tough. The coffee really is terrible.

Beside her, he chokes, swallowing hard to get the worst of it down.

"Oh my god–"

"Yeah," she agrees, patting his arm.

"This is quite possibly the worst coffee I've ever tasted. It's actually kind of fascinating; it tastes like a…" he continues, licking his lips and going back for another grueling, acrid sip, "mhmm, it tastes like a monkey peed in battery acid."

Chuckling, Beckett cants toward him. "Not the description I'd use, but it really is awful. Why do you think I always jump at the chance to meet you at a coffee shop?"

"And here I thought it was the pleasure of my company and my dashing good looks," he teases, somehow managing to down another hearty sip. Her lips twist in disgust. Men and their strong stomachs. She has to drink hers slowly.

"Nah, just the coffee. But now I see I should've been bringing you samples of this stuff."

Horror floods his face. "God no. Only if you want to torment me. This is my first and last cup of this stuff. From now on, we're only drinking espresso in this precinct."

"Rick," she starts, narrowing her eyes as he whips out his phone and opens his Amazon account. "Rick, you are not buying the precinct an espresso machine."

"Oops, done. Too late."

"Castle," she tries, wondering if her stern 'captain voice' will make a difference.

"It'll pay for itself," he promises, pocketing his phone. "When the book becomes a bestseller, it'll be a drop in the bucket. Plus, it'll save us both hundreds of dollars on overpriced coffee shop coffee."

His optimism is sweet, not entirely comforting for the present, but sweet. Still, she gives in. It's his money and he's a grown man – most of the time – he can do what he wants.

"Well then, I hope you know how to use it because you just became the precinct barista. I don't think Julian's going to be in here making lattes for everyone."

He grins, pride puffing his chest out between them. "Done."

"Okay," she agrees, amused. "In that case, I'll get you an apron."

"Perfect."

Giving in to her need to touch him, she pats his chest. "So you're getting good information from Ryan and Espo?"

His head bobs. "Great information. I want to hear more about that sting you did when you were on loan to Vice a few years ago, though."

"Shut up." She smiles anyway, tugging at his mussed collar. "Okay, writer man, go back to getting your authenticity. I have to go back to doing boring captain things."

He nods again. "Break for lunch in a bit?"

"Sure. See you then."

In a bit seems to be a relative term, because fifteen minutes later he's tapping on her door frame, looking entirely too excited about something. She starts to remind him that lunch isn't for another hour, but he cuts her off.

"I, ah, do you mind if I ride with Ryan and Esposito? They're interviewing a witness and I wanna be there. I know, I haven't done the waiver paperwork yet, but I will."

Masking her surprise and the minor tug of melancholy at once again being left behind, she shakes her head. So much for him wanting to see what kind of cop _she_ is. "No, no. I don't mind. But since you haven't signed the waiver, you have to do everything they say."

"Scout's honor," he swears, huffing when she rolls her eyes. She rounds her desk to join him in the doorway.

"You were never a scout."

One shoulder lifts, his smile impish. "I know, but I like the sentiment."

"Of course you do," she sighs, pushing at his shoulder.

The detectives call for him, the twin yells of "Castle" making him brighten even more. Oh, it's not about her; he just loves being one of the boys.

"Oops. Gotta go. See you in a bit." Rick swoops in before she can echo the goodbye, pressing a kiss to her mouth and darting away.

Kate blinks, lips parted in shock. He… just kissed her at work, for the entire bullpen to witness. And witness they did. Half a dozen faces look on in surprise, as if waiting for her to react.

And yet, she doesn't want to kill him. Throttle him a little bit, maybe, but not kill.

Clearing her throat, she addresses the expectant crowd. "Okay, show's over. Cash in on whatever pool about my love life I'm sure you've had going for weeks; I'm going back to work."

With that announcement made, she steps back into her office, biting her lip to get a handle on the smile that threatens to break free.

She might not be in the field anymore, but this could be fun nonetheless.

* * *

 _A/N: I made a note like this on my other ficathon story (Take the Stairs), so I wanted to go ahead and give everyone a little hint about how long we'll be on this train together. This story has been outlined to 30 chapters, with the potential for an epilogue. It won't be finished in time for the end of the ficathon, but I hope you'll all stick with me for it!_

 _Thank you all as always._


	8. Chapter 8

_I cannot begin to describe to you guys how much I appreciate you sticking with me and this fic. Thank you all for your kind reviews, your encouraging messages, your favorites, follows, and shares, and I apologize for the delay with this chapter. It took some time to get a draft I was happy with, but I think this one fits the bill._

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Eight**

* * *

"Can I ask you a question?"

It's not often that he asks first. Usually he finds it easier to blurt out his thoughts and hope Kate's ire isn't raised too badly. It rarely is. His girlfriend talks a big game, but she's more amused than bothered by his questions the majority of the time.

"Asking permission, this is new," she quips, adjusting the burner in front of her before coving their rice to let it simmer. She's been engrossed in prepping their dinner for the last half hour and he hasn't had the heart to break her concentration, but now he's dying to get this question off his mind. He's always dying to know things about her.

"You decorated your office, right?" He leans against the island, within an arm's reach of her, but he doesn't touch her.

Kate's brow furrows. "I, yes? I mean, I didn't pick out the furniture, but the pictures and the plants and things are mine. Why?"

Shaking his head, Rick offers her the wine. "Just curious. It felt like you. The eclectic style, the knick knacks, that awesome dead guy notepad you keep on your desk."

Her eyes narrow as she accepts the glass. "Well, it's been my office for two years, so I'd hope it feels like me."

Her glass clinks against the countertop before she hooks a finger through his belt loop and tugs him closer.

"Why're you so far away?"

"Never far from you, Kate," he promises easily, curling his fingers around her shoulders. The t-shirt she'd changed into after work slips under his hands, offering a swathe of delicate, creamy skin he can't help but kiss.

"So smooth," she teases, brushing her nose over his cheek. It's both funny and surprising how they've fallen into this kind of easy intimacy, like pieces fitting together. Sexy, unpredictable pieces, but pieces fitting together nonetheless.

"Smooth is my middle name, didn't you know?"

"Thought it was Edgar?" She grins, slipping her hands along his waist to lace her fingers at the small of his back.

"Semantics."

"Facts," she retorts, her tongue clicking on the hard consonants in a way that is just oh, so sexy. "Now, what has you so interested in my office décor, Castle?"

He's been Castle a lot recently. Apparently coming to work with her makes it harder for her to avoid the same naming convention at home. It's not a problem, of course; he just wonders if she does it consciously or not.

"The elephants. You, well you bumped them earlier and you got a weird look on your face." And it's almost the same one that slides over her features now; sadness, frustration, and a little annoyance. Interesting.

His thumb slips along the hem of her sleeve, circling the ball of her shoulder. "Anyway, it got me thinking about the things in your office and why you chose to display them."

"Ah," she says, going for indifferent, non-committal, but she doesn't quite manage it. That just intrigues him more.

"Everything else is just a decoration, but you keep a picture and the elephants where you can see them all the time. They're important. Were they a gift? Something from your first love, the man you met on a wild safari, to remember him by? You can tell me, Kate, I won't be jealous."

"They're not from a safari," she snaps. "And they weren't a gift."

"You sure? 'Cause I have this great idea for Nikki, but I think it just depends on the right background. So if I know _yours_ , maybe that'll help me pin hers down."

"Your stripper cop doesn't need my backstory, Castle."

Kate turns away, giving their dinner a slow stir. Shit. He'd overstepped. The line of her shoulders tells him he's poked too hard and hit a nerve. He shifts from foot to foot, opening his mouth a few times before closing it again.

"Want, uh, wanna talk about it?" he asks finally, ready to atone for his blunder.

She swallows hard, giving her head a quick shake. "Not particularly."

"Kate –"

"Grab the plates?" she interrupts, replacing the lid on the pan and moving to the oven to check on the bread. "This is almost ready."

Hint taken.

"Well it smells delicious," he announces. He's probably louder than necessary, given that they're the only people in her apartment, but he sees her relax a bit and puts it down in the win column anyway. "Table or couch?"

"Um," Kate clears her throat, glancing into her dining room and scrunching her nose adorably. "Couch, I guess. Coffee table. The dining table's covered in the files I brought home last night."

"Done. In that case, I'll take the napkins and the placemats over there."

His girlfriend's chin dips as she offers him a soft smile. An olive branch and a sign of forgiveness for his brashness all in one. "Thanks, Rick."

"Candles?" he asks, dotting a kiss to her cheek on his way past her.

"Uh huh, now you're just trying to be fancy."

Rick grins over his shoulder. "I'm creating ambiance, Kate. Just because we're not going out doesn't mean we can't have candlelight. What are we? Animals?"

That makes her laugh. By the time he's finished clearing their dining space and lighting some of the candles she keeps around the room, the remainder of the tension has dissipated.

Kate brings his wine to him, stretching onto the balls of her feet to press her mouth to his.

"We don't need to go out. I'm just fine staying in."

He can't argue with that. Staying in means her head on his shoulder after she finishes her meal, her body warm and snuggly against his side. Staying in means comfort, ease, and the opportunity to grope each other and not violate any indecency laws.

"Me too."

Kate hums, slipping away again. "Good. Now come on, get your food. Then you can start the movie."

Dutifully, he follows her back to the kitchen. "Really? You don't want to wait until after we eat?"

"After the way you and the boys were going on and on about it? The last thing I need is to fall asleep and miss it. I'll never hear the end of it."

"Mmm, probably not."

He knows she misses being a part of the team. As such, he's been trying to subtly tug her back into the fold – well, as much of the fold as he's actually in, being the new guy – and the movie discussion is just one of the phases of his plan. If he can start drawing her out of her office for trivial things like movie arguments, maybe he can show her she doesn't need to hold herself quite as far apart at work as she has been.

"Uh huh, so we'll watch while we eat." She hands him his plate and a serving spoon, kissing the curve of his arm. "And when the movie's ridiculous and a waste of my time, you will owe me the _greatest_ movie night in history."

"O Captain, my captain, you have no idea the challenge you have just bestowed upon me."

Her eyes roll. "How long have you been waiting to use that line?"

"Since about forty seconds after I met you," he admits, holding her plate for her as she gathers the rest of their dinner accouterments.

"Of course." She walks ahead of him, her hips swaying just enough to make his steps stutter. "So wait, if you're already taking up the challenge of the greatest movie night in history, you're basically admitting that this movie is ridiculous and a waste of my time?"

He hits play before she can call movie night off for good. "Well yes, but that's what makes it fun. It's terrible, but it's _supposed_ to be mindless entertainment. And if you don't laugh or you don't like it, _then_ I will show you movie night Richard Castle style."

Kate sighs, taking a bite of her jambalaya. "Okay, okay, fine. But I'm kicking you out if all you do is quote the damn thing."

He nods, face a mask of the utmost seriousness. "Duly noted."

"Mmm," she takes another bite. "Eat. It'll keep your mouth busy."

Rick lifts his fork to his lips before he can remind her of all the other ways his mouth can stay busy. Judging by her lifted eyebrow, she's somehow read his mind and knows how much restraint he's showing.

"How is it?" she asks after they've been eating quietly for a few minutes. "Not too heavy on the cayenne?"

"No, no, it's delicious. Just enough kick. And the shrimp was a fantastic addition."

Kate beams, pleasure emanating out of every pore at the compliment. "Thanks. I haven't made this recipe in so long, I wasn't sure how it would turn out."

"It's great, Kate. I'll be going back for thirds," he says, lifting her hand to his mouth.

Truthfully, he doesn't remember the last time anyone cooked for him. Gina comes to mind first, but he thinks it has to be when Alexis was still in New York; they'd made dinner together pretty often, at least they had until he'd messed it up.

"And since you cooked, I'll take care of the dishes."

His girlfriend hums, settling into his side and going back to her meal. "Thanks. Now hush; your weird movie is starting."

He's proud of her for making it through the entire movie without giving up, falling asleep, or straining a muscle from rolling her eyes too often. It _is_ a stupid movie, but she laughs, the sound light and airy, telling him his mission has been accomplished. He'll put on a dozen more absurd movies if it means giving her that delight for a little longer.

True to his word, he gathers the rest of their dinner dishes and heads to her kitchen, watching for a moment as she squirms into the space he's vacated on the couch. She's like a cat sometimes; seeking leftover warmth from your body, and possibly just wanting to steal your seat.

"So, what was the verdict?" he asks, squirting soap onto the dishes while he waits for the water to heat up.

"Mmm? On the movie?"

"Yeah." He twists, looking over his shoulder to take in her body language as well as her words.

"Ridiculous." Her lips turn up anyway. "Probably one of the dumbest things I've ever seen."

A smirk twists his mouth. "Uh huh. And you loved it, didn't you?"

The sigh she heaves is answer enough. "No," she denies anyway.

"Yes," he retorts. "Admit it, Beckett; you'd probably watch another right now if you weren't in danger of falling asleep like that."

Her tongue pokes out. "You suck. I'm going to have that stupid song stuck in my head all night."

"Let me finish these dishes and I'll take care of that, too. I can put an entirely different song in your head." He wiggles his eyebrows, blindly swiping a sponge over the plate before setting it aside to go in the dishwasher.

Kate snickers into the pillow, lifting her face to drawl, "You're going to be taking care of cleaning up soapy water all night if you don't turn around."

He spins, finding a mound of soap nearly up to his nose. "Oops. Damn, okay. Too many bubbles."

Her laughter carries through the living room. "More wine?"

"Mhmm, please. Might as well finish the bottle tonight."

She hums in assent, padding into the kitchen to top off their glasses. She doesn't speak, but her fingers trail over his back, sending his senses into overdrive. His fingers twitch under the spray of hot water, itching to reach behind him and tug her into him just to have her near.

The empty wine bottle clatters into her recycling bin a moment later, jolting him out of his contemplation.

"Sorry," she murmurs, settling a hand at the small of his back, right over the spot he's felt tugging since sometime yesterday afternoon. He really needs a better chair at the precinct. Her thumb presses, eliciting a groan that's entirely obscene. "That bad, huh?"

Her mouth lands at his neck, just above the collar of his shirt.

"Didn't even realize it until now. That chair's like sitting against a brick wall."

"We'll find you a different one, then. The department can't break Richard Castle. That'd be bad press."

Rick's head dips. "Wouldn't be too fun for you personally, either."

"Well no," Kate chuckles, stepping closer, "but I'd have so much fun fixing you up."

Her lips feather across his neck, quirking as his breath hitches.

"You're gonna be my naughty nurse, Captain Kate?" he teases, listing into her.

She nuzzles him once more. "Guess you'll have to wait and see. Come on, I'll rub your back in bed."

"What about the –"

"The dishes will survive a night in the sink. Let's take our wine to bed." She punctuates the offer with another firm swipe of her thumb before slipping away.

He blinks, spinning just in time to watch as she lifts the glasses from the counter and saunters out of the room.

Kate doesn't need to make the offer again. Swiping his wet hands on his shirt, he makes sure to kill the lights on his way to her bed.

* * *

God, this woman's hands are heavenly. She just knows where to press, where to knead, where it's too sensitive to do anything but caress. In just a few minutes, she's taken every ache, every knot, and every catch in his back and sent it packing.

He might just be in love with her fingers.

"In another life you could've been a masseuse," he says, his mouth mashed into the pillow he'd dragged into the center from his side of the bed.

Kate laughs, shifting her weight on his hips. Even that feels divine.

"I thought about getting my massage therapy license when I was in college. It seemed like a good way to make some extra money."

"Mmm," he agrees. He would've hired her on the spot. Booked every session with her. Just to keep her for himself. "Why didn't you?"

Her fingers twitch, hesitating against his skin, and it's enough to make him open his eyes and twist to face her. Her head dips, a fruitless attempt to hide from his scrutiny behind her hair, but he persists.

"What happened, Kate?"

She sucks in a breath, steadying herself, before looking back at him. "Sometimes plans just change, Castle. What makes you think something happened?"

He squirms, holding her hips to keep her from moving away as he rolls onto his back. "Well, I could make a speech about how I don't really think you set out to be a cop, how you strike me as someone who wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer, but I've already put my foot in my mouth once tonight. Plus I think you might start to hate me a little bit again if I do that."

Beckett exhales, pushing her hands through her hair. "My mom. It was my mom. She was killed and my dad fell apart, and after that it seemed pretty ridiculous to want spending money to buy clothes or a new pair of Chucks."

Oh, _God_. "Kate –"

She silences him with a kiss, slicking her tongue between his lips, stealing his sharp intake of breath. He recovers after a second, banding an arm around her back and rocking her hips against his. Her groan vibrates between them, harsh in the silence, but he doesn't let her pull back. Tilting his head, his mouth slants down her chin, over her jaw, moving to brush the steady thump of her pulse.

She pushes him away before he can close his lips and risk leaving a mark. Before he slides his tongue over her skin.

"The elephants on my desk were hers. I became a cop because her killer was never caught and it was the only damn way I could think of to make it through each day. I thought maybe I could be a better cop than the ones who investigated her case were, maybe I could find a reason beyond 'gang violence, a random wayward event,' the way they did, maybe I could find the people who did it."

Slipping his fingers through her hair, he asks, "Did you?"

Her forehead rests against his, the fight leaving her almost as quickly as it had arrived. "No. No, I spent the first three years of my career looking into it, but I didn't get very far. I let it drag me into a hole I just barely climbed out of, and then I had to put it away."

He feels her swallow, feels the way old grief claws at her once again. But before he can think of something worthwhile to say, she moves on, steamrolling ahead,

"I haven't looked at it since. I told myself if I couldn't get justice for her, I'd get it for others, and I did. For years that's exactly what I did. Then I made captain and I traded it in for a fine cherry wood desk and lots of meetings."

That isn't true, but he doesn't know how to even begin convincing her otherwise. He's only been observing her in the precinct for a few weeks, but he sees how focused she is, how hard she works to do the right thing, and how much it eats at her when her hands end up tied by smarmy lawyers and cutting deals.

"Kate," he murmurs, lifting his chin to press an open-mouthed kiss to her forehead. "You get justice for them every damn day. And you'll get justice for your mother, too."

She shakes her head. "It's been too long, Rick. Evidence is gone, the people involved won't remember – some of them might even be dead by now. And I… I don't know that _I_ could go down that road again."

"I wouldn't let you fall. I wouldn't let you get stuck in the hole."

Her fingers skitter against his chin, the scent of the body lotion she'd been working into his back curling under his nostrils. "I know you'd try. I don't know how successful you'd be."

"Oh, I'm pretty persistent when I want to be. I managed to get you to go out with me, didn't I? Because you were quite opposed to that in the beginning, too."

That makes her laugh, and she swipes at her eyes quickly.

"I could give you a list of reasons why that is, but I think we've covered that pretty extensively."

Yes, they have. In fact, the memory of her ripping him a new one at Remy's will probably never go away.

"You know, I could… I mean I do still know people who used to help me for my books. I could ask them to look into it? I'd pay whatever they'd char –"

Kate scrambles up, pushing on his chest to keep him from following. He blinks, eyes widening at the determination on her face.

"Listen to me, Rick," she says, steel and stone replacing the despair from just a moment ago. "Do _not_. Do not pay anyone, or ask anyone, or go behind my back and try to do it yourself in some misguided attempt to make this better for me."

He nods slowly, swallowing any argument back.

"I'm not kidding here; if you ignore me – ignore this conversation – you won't be convincing me to give you another chance. We'll be done. I have to make my peace with this each and every day, and I can't do my job, I can't – if this case gets brought out again."

"Okay," he agrees, feeling his chest tighten at the idea of what they're building together, the thing that opened his eyes and forced him to look in the mirror, being done. "Okay, I won't. I won't, Kate. I won't."

Her hands relax, smoothing across his chest with renewed gentleness. Wordlessly, he hauls himself up, drawing her mouth back to his, his kiss biting. Her startled squeak becomes a moan, her kiss almost punishing in return.

"I'm sorry," he pants, cradling her head. "I'm sorry, Kate."

"Don't be sorry," she argues, pushing his hair off his forehead. "Just don't do it. I'm actually kind of fond of you these days; having you stick around isn't the worst thing in the world."

Rick chuckles, coming back for another kiss, a gentler kiss. "I will. I'll be here."

"Glad to hear it," she hums, curling her fingers at his ears and keeping him exactly where he wants to be.

* * *

 _A/N: While I didn't make the 50K words for the ficathon, this fic did break 25K during the time allotted, and that's something I'm pretty proud of. Thank you all for hanging in there, and I hope you'll continue to stick with me as we finish out the journey._


	9. Chapter 9

_Thank you all for the love and support you've given this fic. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!_

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Nine**

* * *

 _Lunch break. Two meetings down, two to go. I'm never getting out of here._

He chuckles, but he can't help but feel bad for his poor girlfriend.

She's been stuck in meetings all week; lengthy, sometimes frustrating meetings. While her obligations have made it easier for him to stay home and write, he knows she's also going a little bit crazy being cooped up for so long. Especially now that she remembers what it's like to leave her office more than a few times a week.

Closing his fingers around his phone, he fires off a reply, something irreverent to remind her that he's in his sweatpants and a t-shirt with his feet up while she's in pantyhose and a skirt, unable to even stretch her legs for more than a few minutes at a time. It's been a running joke all week long, the taunt he can't quite let go, and her response comes immediately this time.

 _Shut up, Castle._

Rick laughs, asking if she's at least heard anything interesting so far today. He imagines she's sitting on a planter outside, cradling a plastic container with a slightly warm deli sandwich in her lap, thumbing her way through her unread emails. He pictures the way she purses her lips and tries not to smile at his messages, shaking her head once before replying.

He's witnessed it enough from the bullpen to know it's adorable and sexy all at once.

 _I'll tell you a few stories later. How's the writing going?_

Glancing at the laptop on his thighs, he checks his progress for the day. It hasn't been his most prolific morning, but not his worst by any stretch. He's only taken a couple of breaks for browsing Amazon and checking his email, and the rest of the time he's been either detailing his next few chapters or plugging away at the current one. Not too shabby for mid-way through the day.

 _Decent progress. You'll get your sneak peek later, if you'd like._

She hates sneak peeks. The first time he offered, she looked almost offended that he'd let her see it before the product is finished. So of course he teases her about spoilers every chance he gets.

Truthfully, it's almost a relief that she wants to wait. He _wants_ her to connect with Nikki Heat – but another part of him doesn't want to see her reaction just yet. He's not really ready to see anyone's reaction yet, but especially not Kate Beckett's.

His books had helped her. No, she hasn't said so in so many words, but knowing about her mother, about what she'd gone through with her father, the comment she'd made at their first coffee date makes so much more sense. His books didn't just help people, they'd helped _her_. That much is clear now. He'd helped her, and then he'd disappointed her with a piece of garbage like _Finite Laughter_.

His reputation and terrible behavior aside, it was no wonder she hadn't wanted to deal with him when they met. He'd ended something important to her and hadn't even followed up with anything decent.

Suffice to say, he doesn't want to disappoint her again.

 _I'll take my advanced final copy instead, thanks._

His chuckle bounces off the walls of his office. Sometimes she's a mystery and sometimes he can predict exactly what she's going to say. He'd called that.

 _Don't gloat, Rick. You knew I'd say no._

Okay, maybe she knows him, too. His fingers curl around the phone again, his reply coming in the form of a picture of him sticking his tongue out at her. It's childish, but he just knows it'll force her to cover her mouth with her hand in an attempt to maintain _some_ dignity instead of laughing.

 _Cute_. _Okay, they're calling us back for more. Wish me luck._

Already? That was probably the shortest lunch ever. Still, he flexes his fingers before replying with a simple,

 _You've got this, Kate_.

She'll appreciate it.

A few hours later, he lifts his head with a groan. He's spent way too long in one position; his shoulders ache and his neck is beyond stiff. Writing binges never used to hurt quite this much. Of course, writing binges typically involve writing. His afternoon has felt more like staring at a half-completed chapter hoping to find the right words. He has a setup he likes, knows where everyone should be, he even has a possible resolution in mind, but something is falling flat. Something is missing.

He's established his main character as a badass. She's sexy as hell, able to command respect and attention, and damn good at her job. She's smart, she's resourceful, she connects with people, but he needs more than that.

Something needs to drive her, something more than a large capacity for empathy.

She needs a reason to pause at each crime scene, take a breath, and promise to get the guy who did it. She needs more of a connection to the victims, to their families.

Nikki needs more of Kate. Nikki needs more of her story. Nikki needs her compassion, her empathy, her experience.

Which is going to be a problem, because he can't bring himself to ask his girlfriend to relive it. Not after feeling her breath shake against his chest. Not after her devastation leeched its way into his bones, giving him a hint of what she goes through every single day.

He wants to know more, wants this character to be as real as she can be, but the last thing he wants is to hurt Kate.

So he researches instead.

He finds her mother's obituary a few minutes later, along with a handful of articles about Johanna Beckett's death. All end with the same inconclusive phrase:

 _Police continue to search for suspects._

From what Kate told him, they didn't search very hard. It was too easy to write it off as gang related, given where she was found, and go about their business, without any consideration for the family they'd left in ruin.

It wasn't fair, not even a little bit.

Kate deserves better; her mother deserves better.

And he… he wants to make that happen for her, for them. He's just not sure how.

Grabbing a pen and a yellow pad of paper from the bottom drawer of his desk, he considers his options. Maybe the starting point is to write what he knows so far; he can pull from what Kate's told him and what he's learned from his searches. After that, maybe he'll have a better idea where to go.

That seems logical enough.

Beside his elbow, his phone buzzes, stilling his fingers, stilling his thoughts. Blearily, he looks up from the paper, finding it nearly covered with the facts as he knows them and theories – lots of theories – for what could have really happened to Johanna Beckett. Not Nikki Heat's mother, Kate's.

Shit, _what_ is he doing? How had he gone from researching for his book to _this_ , especially after she'd looked her in the eye and demanded a promise from him.

 _"If you ignore me – ignore this conversation – you won't be convincing me to give you another chance. We'll be done."_

Done.

Over.

No more text teasing and late dinner dates. No more finding creative ways to make each other laugh during sex, no more arguing over the world's dumbest movies on the way home from the precinct. Done. Finito.

He just wants to take some of the burden from her shoulders, give her something comparable to everything she's offered him. A book, no matter how good it is, won't do that. How could it? Solace isn't so easily found. Especially not for a woman who feels as deeply as Kate Beckett does.

He doesn't want her to have to _make_ peace with it every day, he wants her to _have_ peace. He wants her to be at peace. To feel, not like she let her mother down, but like a victor, a hero.

He wants her to feel as extraordinary as she is.

But God, the absolute last thing he wants is to be done.

Swallowing hard, he drops the pen, allowing it to bounce off the yellow pad and roll onto the floor. But in lieu of retrieving the writing instrument, he lifts the phone and swipes at the notification.

There's a little piece of him that's almost nervous to look, as if she might somehow _know_ what he's spent the better part of the last hour contemplating.

Instead, the text opens to a thumbnail picture of his girlfriend making a face he can only describe as bored out of her mind.

Laughter bursts from his lips, amused and more than a little bit relieved. Of course she isn't breaking up with him. She doesn't have spies watching him, doesn't have his office bugged, doesn't have a live-tracker on her mother's name to monitor when it's googled. She's just saying hi during one of her breaks.

 _The last time I was this bored was ninth grade bio._

Snorting, he asks her what she did to combat said boredom then.

 _Asked to go to the bathroom and never went back. Met my boyfriend under the bleachers and made out until the end of the period._

Just a moment later, he gets another selfie – seriously, who knew Kate Beckett was a selfie girl, and a sneaky selfie girl, no less. This time she looks mischievous, almost like she's inviting him for – oh. Oh!

 _Well, if you want to ask to use the restroom, I'd be more than happy to meet you under the bleachers. Give me twenty to get there?_

His feet scrabble for traction on the carpet, ready to propel him upward as soon as she says the word.

 _Cute, but I got roped into presenting next. Can't get out of it._

Well, that's unfortunate. And boring.

 _Damn._

Settling back in his chair, he waits to see if she'll reply again. He pictures her holding her phone under the table, checking to make sure he hasn't disregarded her denial and insisted upon meeting her. He won't, this time.

 _See you later, though?_

He's not sure how she manages to infuse so much hope in just four words, but she does. His fingers fly against his phone screen, eager to agree, to promise to make something she'll love for dinner.

Her reply is just one word, but it's all he really needs to see.

 _Perfect_.

Perfect.

There's no hesitation when he rips the paper from the rest of the pad and crumples it into the smallest ball he can manage. It hits the bottom of the garbage can with a quiet thud, loosening the knot in his chest.

He can write his book with her story in mind, he can show her how extraordinary she is, but he won't ruin her or this thing between them to do it.

* * *

Hours later, Kate greets him with a groan.

"Well hi, honey," he teases, tapping his spoon on the edge of a saucepan before leaving it in the spoon rest and wiping his hands on a towel. "How was your day?"

Her head lifts from the door, eyes opening to shoot him a glare. It's more or less benign, so he simply cocks his head and gestures for her to come closer.

"Take your shoes off and have some wine, Kate. Tell me the good parts."

She sighs, giving him a short nod. "Sorry, I'm in a foul mood."

"You won't be for long, I promise." He meets her halfway, taking her heels and her jacket from her hands in exchange for a glass of wine.

Kate stops him before he can retreat into his bedroom to put her things away, lifting onto her toes to brush her mouth over his.

"I'm already feeling better."

He grins, swiping another kiss from her. "Taste the sauce; it'll do wonders for your aggravation."

"My hero. What can I do to help with dinner?"

He shakes his head, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she can hear him. "Nothing. Just sit, relax, enjoy the smells. I'll be back."

He knows by now that when she's this tired, she won't change out of her work clothes until closer to bedtime. Still, he returns to find her curled up at the end of the couch, cheek resting on her hand, her eyes sleepy.

"Hey, did they make you run a marathon while you were there?"

The middle finger she offers isn't a surprise, but he chuckles anyway, dipping to press his lips to her hairline.

"We can't all stay in our PJs all day, buddy," she grumbles, poking his cheek.

"I'll have you know, Captain, that I changed out of my PJs early this morning. Into other PJs, of course, but these are not the ones I slept in. So it totally counts as getting dressed."

Kate snorts, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sure it does."

"It does so count," he protests, swooping in for a sideways kiss. "I mean, maybe I _napped_ a little, but it was just a short–"

His girlfriend shoves at him. "Go, Castle. Finish my dinner before I have to smother you for gloating."

Snickering, he slips away.

As he checks the food, he listens to her squirm to get comfortable. Her huff makes him feel a little bit bad about teasing. "Kate, this will keep if you want to rest first. I don't mind."

"No, no. Food will help perk me up. The sandwiches they gave us were terrible; I could only eat half. They were slimy, Rick. _Slimy_."

Frowning, he reaches into the fridge for a bowl of fruit to help tide her over. And maybe settle her stomach if necessary. "Left out too long?"

Behind him, she groans. "Ugh, don't say that. Food poisoning would be just my luck."

"You won't get it," he assures, padding over to share the fruit with her. He swipes a trio of grapes as she tugs the bowl from his hand. "But, should you end up feeling a little queasy, I have nearly every medicinal and non-medicinal solution to help. Plus, I am an excellent human ponytail holder."

His girlfriend's brow furrows in question. "Do I even want to know?"

"Alexis went through a few months where her stomach was _really_ sensitive. We only found out a meal had been too much after it was too late."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, you're telling me. She was mortified when it happened in public. She refused to walk down Lafayette with me for the longest time. Said everyone there would remember her as the girl who barfed on the sidewalk. I tried to tell her that happens all the time in parts of Times Square, but it didn't really make her feel better."

Kate laughs, turning her head into her shoulder. "Poor kid."

"Yeah," he agrees, sagging a little deeper against the back of the couch. Damn, he misses his kid. In her twenties or not, he misses his kid.

Soft lips brush his knuckles, bringing him back to the moment. "Have you heard from her recently?"

"Ah, I got a group text from her last week. She got the grant she'd been working on."

Kate's fingers curl around his wrist, keeping him from straightening just yet. "Hey, that's really good."

"Well, she told a lot of people," he hedges. "But it's really good for the project that they got it."

"Yeah, but she told you, too," she insists, twisting to cup his neck. "Put it this way, she could've left you off the list. She could've scrolled through her contacts and chosen everyone but you, her ex, and the pizza place she likes."

Rick snorts, but concedes her point with a quick dip of his head.

"So it's a start, right?" Her lips ghost over his forehead. "I take it you texted her back?"

"I did," he confirms, slipping his palms over her sides to steady her. "She actually replied, too. She said thanks."

A smile blossoms over his girlfriend's lips. "See? She read it and she responded. That's progress, Rick."

Well, she has him there. It's sad, but it's progress. A month ago, Alexis was still ignoring his texts entirely. Maybe in another month they would be up to multiple texts at a time.

"Yeah it is. It is progress."

Kate squeezes his neck, pressing a firm kiss to the corner of his mouth. She pulls away before his lips have the chance to pucker in return. "And you'll make more. Now, let me help you make more progress on our dinner. I feel lazy just sitting here."

"You're not lazy," Rick argues, grinning at the roll of her eyes as she stands and stretches the kinks of the day out of her limbs. "You're relaxing. Why don't you go take a shower? Or a bath? I did promise to make you dinner, not start it and force you to help me finish it."

Kate saunters around the couch, crowding into his space. "Are you trying to get rid of me? Or just looking for an excuse to get me naked?"

"Neither, Captain," he drawls, brushing his knuckles along the seams of her shirt before palming her hips and pulling her closer. Her quick, sharp inhale makes him grin. "One, getting rid of you is the last thing on my mind, and two, I'm not sure I need to make excuses to get you naked. You just look uncomfortable, achy, so I thought I'd offer."

His girlfriend grimaces, hiding her face in his shoulder. "Sorry. I'm… well, it's…"

Oh. On top of a really long day, it's also _that_ kind of fatigue.

"Duly noted." He nods, flattening his hands against the small of her back in hopes the warmth and the pressure will help. Kate mumbles something into his shirt, her actual words getting lost against the fabric, but he's thinking it's a generally positive sentiment. "I have a nicely stocked medicine cabinet, too; you should be able to find something to help."

She exhales, brushing a kiss into the hollow of his throat. "You're sweet. Thank you."

"I have ice cream, too, if you… want that." He's fumbling, he knows, but it _has_ been two years since he's last been on period detail. He's a little rusty.

Kate's laugh is light, gentle, and he manages a smile for her when she rises onto her toes to offer him her lips. "Thank you, Rick. Let's stick with real food for now. After that, a bowl of ice cream, a bath for two," she pauses, giving her eyebrows time to wiggle, "and maybe a back rub? Assuming I can stay awake that long."

"Coming right up," he agrees, slipping his hand down her back to the curve of her ass. "Especially that bath for two, I like that idea a lot."

"Yeah," she hums, lifting his hand away from her backside and tugging him into the kitchen. "I thought you might. Later, though. Right now you're bubbling."

"I'm, wait what?"

She smirks, pointing to the saucepan he'd left simmering when she walked in.

He scrambles, lifting it from the stove and killing the heat before checking the damage. The sauce is a little thin, but it isn't burned. Victory.

"Is it okay?" Kate asks, bracing a hand on his hip and ducking around him with a spoon to try it. "Mmm, oh, that's good."

"No harm done," he promises, clearing his throat quickly. That hum of hers does decidedly wicked things to him. Even when it's directed toward his sauce. "And the chicken should be done in just a few minutes."

Kate nods, abandoning her spoon on the counter in favor of slipping her arms around him. "Good timing," she murmurs, leaning her cheek against his back.

Just for a moment, he thinks about earlier, about the text that pulled him back from the edge of doing something incredibly stupid and hurtful. Had she not been bored to the point of selfies…

No, she's the one with good timing. Not him.

Twisting in her arms, he drags her into a fierce kiss, making an unspoken promise not to break this thing between them.

They're both breathing heavily when he releases his claim on her mouth. Kate sucks in a breath first, lifting a hand to the counter in an effort to remain upright as their bodies sway together.

"Wow," she exhales, swiping her mouth over his once more, only pulling away when the oven timer makes its final countdown. "All because I said you had good timing?"

Chuckling, Rick pushes her hair away from her face. She's flushed, her eyes a little bit wild. He imagines he is as well. "Yeah, something like that."

* * *

 _A/N: Seriously, you guys are wonderful, thank you._


	10. Chapter 10

_I know it's been forever since the last chapter. Thank you all so much for your support, your messages to check on the progress of this chapter, and your continued excitement for this story. I hope you enjoy!_

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Ten**

* * *

She hears him coming before he emerges from her bedroom. Knowing Castle, he was probably trying to be sneaky, trying to creep up behind her and blow a raspberry on her neck, but the squeaky floorboard in the center of her room gives him away.

"Mmm, hey, you're up early."

Her lips curve at his rumbled, sleepy greeting, and she marks her place in the journal she'd found herself drawn to this morning, turning on her bar stool to beckon him closer.

"Couldn't sleep any later and I didn't want to wake you. You looked worn out. Was I too rough with you, old man?" she teases, reaching out to draw him between her knees.

Rick's large hands frame her face as he lowers his head to hers for a slow kiss. She lifts into him, humming in appreciation for the easy swipe of his tongue over her lips. She'd fallen asleep last night on a high, dizzied from the rush of Rick Castle's mouth against hers, his hands on her body, and his kiss only reignites that heady feeling.

" _Funny_ , but no. I did sleep like a rock, though, so you definitely exhausted me, Captain."

"Mmm, sorry." She's not sorry she was able to do that. Not even a little sorry.

His lips curve against hers. "Liar."

"Yeah, maybe." She grins, swiping her hands along his sides. "You want coffee?"

His palms slip from her cheeks, making an agonizing path over her shoulders and down her sides. She gasps when his fingers dip lower, past the edge of her nightshirt, skimming the length of her thighs and curling around the backs of her knees, holding her against him.

"I have a better idea, I think. Wanna go back to bed? Skip the coffee for now?" he rumbles, taking another kiss from her mouth. Deeper, more insistent. His tongue slicks between her lips, robbing her of the opportunity to respond at first.

Not that she needs words. Not when her arms slip around his neck or her tongue chases his. Not when her legs lock at the ankle around his waist, resting against the top of his ass.

But she speaks anyway, gives him a sinfully low confirmation, as she encourages him to lift her off the stool. "Yes please."

The next time she wakes, it's with him pressed along the length of her back. From her shoulders to her feet, he's there, his arm slung heavy around her waist, fingers curled between her breasts. He's not asleep, but he's still matching his breathing with hers, waiting for her to return to awareness.

"Kate," he whispers, trailing his lips along the back of her neck. "Ka-ate, I know you're awake."

A breathy laugh slips from her. "Stop, Rick. That tickles."

He does it again, lighter this time, chuckling into her skin when her arm flails backward to swat at him.

"Jerk."

"Mmm, jerk's gonna make coffee. Want some?"

More coffee sounds great. Especially if he brings it to her in bed and doesn't make her move until the heater has taken care of the chill from the floorboards.

"Please," she agrees, slipping a hand over his to keep him from moving. Call her fickle, but she doesn't want him to go right _now_. "But in a bit, not yet."

Rick nods, sinking against her back once more. She loves this part of being with him: the moments when they're curled together, just existing with one another, letting their skin whisper what they can't, won't, don't say.

"Do you want me to bring the book when I come back?" he rumbles a few minutes later, clearly having caught a new train of thought without her.

"Hmm?" One eye peeks open once more. Not that she can see anything but the lines of her dresser from here, but the effort is there. "What book?"

Rick's fingers squeeze hers. "The one you were reading when I walked out earlier."

"Oh, uh, sure. Sure, grab it if you have enough hands. If you don't, that's okay."

Truthfully, she's not sure she would read it even if he brought it to her. As much as they share, it feels like a little too much still.

Something about the morning had tugged her out of bed, leading her to the shelf in her office nook where she keeps some of her mom's things. Her fingers had closed on her mom's journal before she really even registered touching the supple leather, and the book had stayed in the crook of her arm as she made her first cup of coffee and settled at her kitchen island.

"Kate?"

"Mmm?" Twisting, she finds Rick watching her. Oh, she must have missed something. He always makes that put-upon little boy pout if he thinks she's not listening. "Sorry, repeat that."

Her hand lifts, thumb brushing his lower lip in apology.

"Just asked if you wanted breakfast, too."

Her head shakes. "No. Ah, no thanks."

Rick nods, lowering his chin in acquiescence. "Kay. I just wanted to offer."

Pulling him in, she smudges her mouth over his. "Let's go out for breakfast. After coffee. And once I've decided I'm done having my way with you for the morning," she adds, rubbing their noses together.

"So breakfast for lunch," he teases, taking an unhurried kiss from her mouth. Her heart trips in her chest, hopeful and eager just to be near him. "Think they call that brunch."

Flinging a leg around him, her hips bump his. "Does it matter what it's called? It's the meal we're going to eat after we have more sex."

Rick grunts, rolling the rest of the way onto his back and pulling her over him. "You always have the best ideas."

* * *

Eventually, they emerge from her bedroom, hair damp from a shower, eyes fixed on the coffee maker at the back of her kitchen.

Rick's hand slips down her back, chivalrous and sweet until the moment he settles his palm on her ass. She can't help but laugh, leaning into his side. Although she hadn't been in a bad mood when she woke up, she's in a much better one now, ass grabs and all.

"I'll make the coffee," he volunteers, his voice lifting higher than normal as her hand skirts down his hip to cop a feel of her own.

"Mmm good. You make it better than I do." She leans in with a grin, smacking a kiss against his jaw.

He preens in response, swooping around the island and reaching for her mug from earlier. She slips onto a stool, watching the lines of his back through his t-shirt. Her fingers twitch in memory of tracing those lines, of feeling every bunch and ripple of muscle as she gripped him tightly.

"See something you like, Captain?" he calls over his shoulder, never faltering in his task to measure the perfect amount of coffee.

"Uh huh, my coffee in production."

He scoffs, shifting his hips. "I think you see more than that."

A giggle works its way between her lips. Good lord, this is what this man does to her. She actually _giggles_ now. "You're right. I see the muffins I picked up yesterday. I might have one to tide me over until brunch."

Rick spins, narrowing his eyes at her. "You're hilarious, Beckett. But they do look delicious, so split one with me?"

Kate grins, already sliding from her perch. "I'll get it while you craft your masterpiece."

Swinging around the island, she scoots past him to grab the muffins. "Should we split one or just have one each?"

Castle turns, catching her lips for a kiss. "Either works for me. Having my own won't spoil my appetite."

"Well, you certainly worked hard enough," she teases, curling her fingers in his jeans pocket. "I'll cut two, then we can eat whatever we want and save the rest if there is any."

"I am _so_ happy you think so. And that works." He kisses her again, releasing her to settle the filter in the coffee maker. "You know, for your birthday, I think you deserve an upgrade for this thing."

For her birthday.

Her smile falters just a tad.

It shouldn't be a big deal, not really. Her birthdays have never bothered her in the past, not even her thirtieth. And yet for some reason, she woke up this morning with this birthday on her mind.

She has a good life. Despite his troubles in the past, her father is in good health and they've managed to rebuild their relationship. She's successful at work, she's mending fences with her friends, and Richard Castle himself has wormed his way into her life and her heart. Her life is beyond good.

But something about her thirty-fifth birthday has her on edge.

It's what made her seek out her mother's journal, hoping maybe Johanna had imparted some wisdom about the birthday and what it had meant to her. She'd learned that her six-year-old self had gifted her mother a homemade picture frame and her father had brought Johanna flowers at work, taking her out for a romantic lunch in lieu of a large dinner they would've needed a babysitter to accommodate. The affection had been obvious in her mom's words, but even that hadn't helped her sort out her own thoughts.

"Kate?" This time he nudges her out of her contemplation, too.

She lifts her head. "Yeah? Sorry, just… thinking about my birthday."

"Good things, I hope. Let me tell you, you will _love_ what I have planned."

"I – wait, you planned something?" she stutters, lowering the knife to the counter. "Rick, you didn't _plan_ _something_ plan something, did you?"

"Like a surprise party? No. Why? Oh! Did you want one? Cause I can make that happen. Of course, it won't be a surprise if you know I'm planning it, but –"

She cuts him off with a rapid shake of her head. "No, no, please don't. I just meant… anything, really. Did you make a big deal out of this?"

Rick's brow furrows. "No? I just… I mean I bought you a present. And I have – well I made reservations, but I can change those if you want me to. I just thought I should do something nice for you…"

Relief floods her belly. "No, no – that sounds really good. Just you and me?"

He nods, quiet caution etched across his face. "Of course. You know we don't take Esposito nice places."

Kate snickers, feeling her blood heat once more. He can be so damn sweet sometimes.

Stepping into his side, she slides her lips over the corner of his mouth. "That sounds great, Rick. Just you and me."

"Oh, it will be great. Trust me, Kate; Alexis always said I was great at birthdays."

"I do," she promises, pressing her forehead to the line of his jaw. He'll make her birthday less confusing. Hell, she already knows he'll make it fun – more fun than any of her adult birthdays have been so far. "I trust you."

Rick shivers, pride vibrating through his chest. He knows what he can do for her.

"So," he clears his throat finally, turning to put the finishing touches on her coffee. "What do you have in mind for our outing today? After brunch at the café, of course."

"Maybe a walk?" she suggests, glancing over to find his eyes fixed on her mug. He always puts so much care and effort into the beverage.

"Perfect," he agrees, passing a steaming mug to her. "In the park?"

Kate lifts a shoulder, holding the coffee close to her lips. It smells heavenly, tastes even better, and means so much more than that. Every sip feels like a kiss, a caress from his mouth to hers.

"Wherever. The park, through the village, both, neither. I'm not picky."

Her boyfriend nods, lifting his own coffee to his lips. "Kay."

"Kay," she echoes, offering him a bite of muffin. "Oh, and then maybe we can duck into the grocery store? I'll make your favorite for dinner if you brave Whole Foods with me."

It's a shameless ploy, an outright bribe for suffering through the grocery store on the weekend, but he doesn't seem bothered by the payoff. In fact, the offer has him lighting up.

"You mean it?"

"I mean it," she promises, popping a piece of muffin into her mouth. "I'll even make enough for us to take for lunch tomorrow."

Rick grins, leaning his hip against the counter. "For the most delicious meal I've ever tasted, I think I can be courageous."

* * *

The November air is crisp, but they stroll for hours, arms linked when their hands aren't laced. His shoulder provides a warm rest for her cheek when the wind picks up, and more than once he pulls her closer, fisting his hand in her hoodie to keep her body against his as his mouth works over hers.

Her heart feels lighter with each kiss.

The heavy feeling she'd woken with has dissolved completely by the time Rick tugs her onto a rock in Central Park and rests his chin on her shoulder. They people watch from their perch, trading stories of fantastical love affairs and practical business transactions, battling to convince the other that they're right.

Chuckling, her fingers slide over his knuckles. "She's not a spy, Castle. She's an investigator for the DA."

"Isn't that kind of the same thing, though? It's just sanctioned spying."

"But doesn't that kill some of the appeal?" she teases, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "Having permission to do it? I thought part of the allure was asking for forgiveness, not permission. Isn't that how it works for you, Ricky?"

Rick scoffs. "I'll have you know that there is plenty of appeal either way." As if to prove his point, he trails a fingertip down her side, dipping into her hoodie pocket, caressing her through her clothes.

Her head knocks against his, a reminder to behave. "Sure there is."

The way his chest moves tells her he has more to say on that subject, but he refrains. Instead, he clears his throat, pointing out another stranger and spinning their story for her.

After a while, someone catches on to their scrutiny. The woman gives them a dirty look when they fail to look contrite, leaving Kate to hide a guffaw in Castle's arm as she flounces off.

"Oops."

Rick chuckles. "Yeah, that happens sometimes. You should've seen the look I got one time when I mentioned the baby being due and the woman wasn't pregnant."

"Oh no."

He nods. "Oh yes. If she could've harnessed the power of telekinesis, I would've been wearing the coffee I had in my hand that day."

She laughs again, squeezing his arm. "Well that is kind of what you get for assuming she was pregnant, Rick."

The sigh he heaves is loud, put-upon, and fake. "Well, my mother did always say that was my worst quality."

Kate snorts. "Not the inability to listen?"

She squirms away from his tickling fingers.

"Hey, I listen. Sometimes I just choose not to heed."

"Ah, therein lies the difference," she teases, leaning her cheek against his arm once more.

"Pretty much."

"Mmm." She nods, stroking her fingers lightly over his wrist. "Speaking of mothers, the book earlier? It was my mom's journal." She hadn't intended to tell him, but lulled by his warmth and his closeness, the confession spills from her lips.

Rick nods, settling his palm against her belly. "Yeah?"

Tugging her lip between her teeth, she nods. "I just… sometimes I read it when I wonder what she would have to say about things."

He makes a thoughtful noise. "Your birthday?"

Twisting, she catches his eyes. "How did you –"

One of his shoulders lifts. Six months ago, he would've gloated about pinpointing her troubles, but now he simply regards her with soft, affectionate eyes. "It's the only thing you've seemed upset about lately. You kinda froze when I mentioned it earlier."

Her head dips. "Yeah, I guess I did. And that, that wasn't you, I promise. I'm –"

"Beckett, are you having a third life crisis? Am _I_ your third-life crisis?" he interrupts, the question just absurd enough to lighten things once more. "I feel like such a trophy."

Mirth pitches her sideways. It's all she can do not to fall off the rock, but she manages to right herself at the last possible second.

Forcing back another peal of laughter, she coughs into her hand.

"Yes," she drawls, sucking in a deep breath. "That's exactly it. You're my third-life crisis. My trophy boyfriend."

"I _knew_ it. You picked me because I'm ruggedly handsome, isn't it?"

"Don't forget modest."

He grins, slipping his hand into hers. "Of course."

"This is just new for me," she admits, thumbing his knuckles. "Having someone on my birthday is new. Makes it feel bigger than just being another year older. So I looked to see what my mom had to say about that."

Rick plays with her fingers, tilting his head. "So what'd she say? If you want to tell me, that is."

"Not much. It was a non-milestone birthday. It was a pretty normal day. I was little, she and my dad were still working together, but I think having us with her to celebrate made the day feel more joyful, full."

His lips curl against her temple. "Then that's what we'll do for you, Kate. Give you a day that's joyful and full."

Cuddling closer, she nods. He'll make that happen. Even if her day is spent working a triple homicide, he'll somehow find a way to make it joyful and full.

"Kay. Plus dinner and the present you got me, of course."

Looping his arm around her once more, Castle chuckles into her hair. "And those things, too."

He buys her a cherry flavored snow cone as they start making their way home, pressing the flimsy cup into her hand even as he turns back to the vendor to accept his own blue raspberry flavored shaved ice. It's a silly treat, but she indulges him after their conversation on the rock.

Within minutes, her mouth is numb. Every time she tries to speak, her words end up slurred and unintelligible, which only makes her boyfriend laugh at her attempts. Not that he's much better off; his replies come from clumsy blue lips.

Blue lips she can't help but kiss before continuing on to Whole Foods.

Things get dicey a few times, but they manage to survive the grocery store, returning to her place with full bags and sore feet. Rick's fingers curl around her elbow as she lifts her cargo onto the counter, giving her a gentle nudge toward the couch.

"Go sit, Kate. I'll put everything away."

"It's faster if we both do it," she protests, shaking feeling back into her hand.

"Yeah, but you're going to stand again in a little while to make dinner. So my turn; you rest now."

Her mouth opens to reply, but he beats her to that, too.

"Teamwork, Beckett."

"It's still teamwork if I help you right now, you know. In fact, I think that's the textbook definition of teamwork."

"True, that's completely true, and it is so _hot_ that you're quoting definitions at me. But let's do it this way." He grins, unrepentant. "We'll use the second part of the definition – working toward the common interest of the group."

"You're such a pain in the ass," she mutters, shaking her head. It lacks actual malice, though, and his arm snakes around her waist to steal a firm kiss from her mouth.

"Yeah, I know. But I'm your pain in the ass."

Her fingers curl beneath his collar, delighting in the gentle warmth of his skin. He is, isn't he? All hers.

She feigns contemplation. "I suppose that's true. It has been pretty tough to get rid of you."

Rick chuckles, swiping a thumb across her cheek. "You say that like you'd want to."

Narrowing her eyes, she pokes at his chest. "Don't fish for compliments, Rick."

His mouth busses hers once more. " _Fine_. We'll leave how wonderful I am to have around as the unspoken truth we both know. Now I'm going to put these things away before the ice cream melts."

Right, yes. The special organic praline swirl ice cream he'd insisted they _had_ to try. That definitely needed to go in the freezer before it was a waste of almost seven dollars.

"Okay, okay, fine. I'm sitting."

Castle releases her with a triumphant grin. "Good. I'll bring you wine in a few minutes."

"Uh huh." She leaves him to it. Knowing he's watching her leave, her hips sway a little bit more than necessary, just to give him something to groan about as she makes her way to the couch.

"Evil woman," he mutters, opening one of the grocery bags and emptying it with surprising efficiency.

"Yeah, but I'm your evil woman," she retorts, settling into her throw pillows, watching the awe flash over his face as her words hit home for him.

Not even bothering to smother his pleased smile, Rick hums, looking her over. "Well, I do have great taste."

* * *

 _A/N: Once again, you have my gratitude for sticking with me on this journey, even through the delays. Thank you all._


	11. Chapter 11

_I apologize for making everyone wait so long for this chapter. Thank you all so much for your kind words, your encouragement, and being patient with me. I hope you enjoy._

* * *

He's late.

She tries, but it's hard not to be exasperated. He's been talking up these plans for two weeks, slowly building her excitement, encouraging her to bring a bag to work to change, and yet the day of he's going to be late?

What happened to the reservations? And at the risk of sounding like a fourteen year old, what happened to making her birthday joyful and full?

She'd sent him with the boys on what she'd assumed would be an easy pick up, but now they're overdue and she's feeling fidgety. Is he messing with her? Would he really mess with her on her birthday of all days?

If she has to go find him, dressed up as she is, only to find out that he's screwing with her, she will shoot him.

Her check-in text to Ryan goes unanswered, making her narrow her eyes. Okay, that's a little concerning. Kevin is the reliable one out of the three of them. Rick gets so caught up and excited, and Espo can't hear his phone most of the time – except, conveniently, when he has a date – but Ryan always answers within a few minutes. She knows he wouldn't let Rick convince him not to reply; _he_ understands that it's not some sort of game.

Had something happened?

It's probably nothing, she knows, but she's still uneasy about even letting Rick go out with the boys without her there to watch his back. The idea that something could've happened is –

"Incoming, Captain."

LT passes by her office, tapping on the door frame.

Beckett looks up, practically slamming her pen down on the desktop when the three stooges come slinking by. The witness they went to pick up walks between the actual cops, while Rick hangs back, cradling his face.

What the hell did they do to her boyfriend?

She darts out from behind her desk. "What's going on here?"

The boys freeze, twisting to face her. Their charge even shrinks back under her reproachful gaze, tugging at the restraints of Ryan and Esposito's hands.

Yeah, he'd better be concerned. Especially if he had anything to do with the way Rick's holding his nose.

"Well, it's kind of a funny story –"

She whirls, cutting off Rick's explanation. He attempts a bright smile for her, but since his hand halfway obstructs his face, it doesn't quite have the desired impact.

"You bleeding doesn't exactly amuse me, Rick. What happened?"

Beckett watches her team trade silent looks. No doubt deciding who would step up and tell her the story. In the end, Esposito nods, volunteering to take this one.

"So as you know, we went to pay Mr. Davis a visit and ask him to come back here with us."

"Uh huh." She crosses her arms over her chest. "I do know that, since I was the one who told you to go."

"Right. Well, Mr. Davis here wasn't exactly happy to see us, and he decided to do things the hard way. It was a good thing Castle was waiting in the doorway downstairs, 'cause even though our friend here head butted him on his way out, he kept him from making a break for it. Saved us from having to trek down the block after him."

"Which is good, because have you seen these guys run lately? Slow pokes, both of them," Rick adds, offering her his adorable, lopsided grin. Nice try, buddy. Nice try.

Ryan and Espo glare. "Speak for yourself, bro. We don't see you out there cross training."

Castle scoffs. "I'll have you know, Beckett and I go running once a week; she's quite impressed with my fitness level."

Not so much with the blood she sees on his handkerchief, though.

Espo makes a face. "We don't want to know what you and the captain do in your spare time."

Mr. Davis pipes up, too. "Neither do I. Just, you know, for the record."

Her eyes narrow. "Show Mr. Davis his seat and make him comfortable. You two have some questions to ask him. Mr. Castle, have a seat in my office. We'll fill out an incident report."

Castle nods, wisely refraining from arguing with her. He brushes past her without another word, disappearing into her office to settle heavily on her couch.

Her lifted eyebrow sends the other three men on their way to the interrogation room.

So much for it being a simple milk run. And maybe, so much for their dinner plans.

She makes a detour to the breakroom for ice and the floor's first aid kit, before stepping back into her office and closing the door behind her.

Rick looks up, wad of fabric still held under his nose.

"Hey. Sorry about taking so long out there."

Lowering beside him, she tugs the bloodied handkerchief away from his face. From what she can see, he's not bleeding anymore. Oozing a little bit, maybe, but not bleeding.

"Could've answered when I texted, given me a heads up," she murmurs, pressing the ice against his face. Rick hisses, slapping at her hands, but she shakes her head and holds firm.

"That's cold."

"Very good, Mr. Castle."

He huffs, but doesn't whine or pull away any further.

"Thought you were messing around, you know. Maybe even standing me up."

His eyes widen in horror. "What? No! Of course not, Kate. Of course not. It just got crazy when he bashed into me. Ryan and Esposito secured him and then I realized I was bleeding, so we tried waiting a few minutes to see if it would stop before we came back. I didn't want to worry you."

Her fingers slip through his hair. "You not coming back worried me more," she confesses.

Rick's palm lands against her hip as he pushes the ice away from his face with his other hand. Her protests go ignored in favor of covering her mouth with his, nipping at her lip.

She sighs, palming his cheek, giving in to the need to _kiss_ him, to let the closeness loosen the knot in her chest. His nose is cold, but his mouth practically burns against hers. The combination is enough to send a shiver down her spine.

Until he hisses and has to pull away.

Kate sighs, lifting the ice pack back to his face.

"Do you want to press charges?"

He submits to her poking and prodding before shaking his head. "He's harmless. An idiot, but harmless. And it was an accident. He was running from the police, yeah, but I just got in his way."

She sighs again, dipping her chin. "I still have to write it up."

"That's okay. It's my first shadowing injury!"

Her eyes roll on their own accord. "You would be proud of that."

Something in her voice sobers him again, and his fingers curl around hers. "I'm okay, Kate. I promise."

"You'd better be. We have a reservation to make. Assuming we'll still make it? And that you want to go. We don't have to; I know how shitty taking a hit to the face can make you feel."

Rick checks his watch, giving his head a gentle shake. "What's a little bump on the nose? I have no plans to give up our evening."

Her lips lift a fraction. He would be this stubborn. "Okay. Then how are we doing, time-wise?"

"We're okay. We just won't be able to take a leisurely stroll to get there. And may I just say that you look amazing. Gorgeous."

She flushes, brushing her fingers over his cheeks again. "Thanks. You look like you were in a bar fight."

"Sexy, right?"

"Rick," she chides. "You really could have been hurt. Don't be flippant about this. Call it my birthday present if you want."

His cocky smile softens. "I'm sorry. I'll be more serious. And, by the way, that would be a terrible birthday present. I can do much better than that."

"Uh huh. And you've spent so long getting me hyped up for this birthday, I'd hate for anything to get in the way of that," she teases, brushing her hand down his neck and standing. "I'll get you a painkiller and write my report, and then we can go?"

Her boyfriend nods, catching her hand. "Thanks, Kate."

"For what?" Her brow furrows.

"Being my semi-naughty nurse, of course. I always knew you'd make good on that promise."

And there's the jokester again. Her eyes roll. "Of course."

She hands him the bottle of painkillers, checking his face once more before settling at her desk and starting the mandatory incident report.

Once she's done, and Ryan and Espo have given her the short version of their interview with Michael Davis, she shuts her computer down and lifts her purse and only her purse onto her shoulder.

"Ready?" Rick rumbles, sweeping his bloodied handkerchief and the nearly melted bag of ice into the garbage can before straightening and sweeping his hands over his blazer. He'd ducked out to change his shirt while she was talking to her detectives, and she can't help but rake her eyes over him now.

"Mhmm." Beckett slips her arm through his, escorting him out of her office and through the bullpen. "Ready. Let's get out of here, Castle."

As it always is, traffic is stop and go, but their cabbie finds an open street a couple blocks up from the precinct and makes the sharp turn to take it. The shortcut shaves a few minutes off the drive, getting them where they need to go almost on time, but it isn't without a few heart stopping moments.

She feels Rick breathe a sigh of relief when they pull up to the curb. Yeah, she doesn't blame him. She'd kept a death grip on the seat cushion for most of drive.

"We made it," she murmurs, leaning across the backseat to swipe her lips over his cheek. His face is already starting to bruise, but it doesn't seem to be bothering him. At least not yet.

Rick smiles, slipping his hand into hers.

"We're here. Let's go."

At first, she thinks their destination is the swanky place they've stopped in front of, but he shakes his head and leads her to the nondescript wood door beside the restaurant's main entrance.

"This way," he says, offering her a hopeful smile.

She squeezes his hand, nodding in thanks before preceding him inside and up the stairs.

Where the restaurant on the street had screamed pretentious and flashy, this place is the polar opposite. It's simple, clean and homey, but still classy and upscale. She loves it already.

"It's gorgeous, Rick," she tells him, tearing her eyes from the décor once he's given the host his name.

He grins, dropping a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I'm glad. And by the way, I saw your face downstairs. I wouldn't do that to you again, don't worry."

Beckett laughs, thumbing the back of his hand. "Thanks for that. Thanks." The place _had_ reminded her a little bit of the site of their disastrous first date.

The host returns, offering them both a broad smile.

"Everything's ready for you, Mr. Castle; follow me, please?"

Her fingers tighten around his as they're led to a table beside a large, picturesque window. She gawks, spinning to face him. Rick shrugs, offering her a shy smile.

"I know you like being a little more tucked away, but I asked them to give us the best view."

Kate lifts onto her toes, pressing an impulsive kiss to his mouth. "I already had a pretty good one; this just makes it better."

Her boyfriend flushes, swiping a hand up her side. The touch is light, but she feels her breath catch anyway.

"My thoughts exactly."

* * *

Thankfully, dinner isn't as eventful as their afternoon.

Conversation ebbs and flows as they eat, gentle brushes of their fingers replacing words when necessary. He makes her laugh with a story about one of his mother's less recent acting mishaps, and in return, she counters with a story of a mid-trial blunder of her father's. It hadn't been bad enough to cost them the case, but her dad's dignity had taken a hit.

Rick laughs, playing with one of her rings. Her fingers twitch beneath his, but she lets him caress to his heart's content. "How is he? Your dad, I mean."

"He's good. Never going to live that down," she laughs, sipping her wine. "But he's good."

Her boyfriend grins, releasing her hand to reach for his wine as well.

A part of her wonders if she should invite him along to her next brunch with her dad, if it's the right time for them to meet. It _has_ been months since she and Rick started dating, longer than any other man she's been with in years, and for the first time in a long time – possibly ever, if she's honest with herself – she doesn't see it ending any time soon, either.

Plus, she's met his mom, why not have him meet her dad? If not this month – or next, given how she and her father both feel about the holidays – maybe soon.

Rick opens his mouth again, offering up a story about one of Alexis's disastrous high school projects. As he talks, she feels her smile widen; she probably would've paid to have seen the two of them together, cleaning tomato off of the walls of the loft.

Leaning across the table, she surprises him mid-sentence with a soft kiss. Just because.

"What was that for?" he asks, tilting his head.

This. All of this. The way he opens up to her, makes her open up to him. The way he's made her birthday less lonely just by being with her.

She doesn't say anything, though. Instead, she offers a tiny shake of her head and sits back in her seat.

Rick seems to understand anyway, because the confusion fades and a pleased smile spreads across his lips.

"So what else is on your agenda for tonight?" she asks finally, finding her voice once more.

He sits up a little straighter in his chair, pride swelling his chest. "Although our next destination is a secret, I can tell you for sure it will not involve another slightly terrifying ride in a cab."

She laughs. "His driving was a little frenzied, wasn't it?"

"I think he drove on the sidewalk, Beckett. You never drive on the sidewalk."

One eyebrow arches. "Are you really complaining about that?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Mhmm, good. Same here."

He clucks his tongue. "But to answer more of your question, since there will be no post-dinner crazy taxi experiences, my plans involve a charming stroll to pick up dessert, and then an equally enjoyable walk home."

"Thought we usually wait until we get home to have dessert?" she teases, rubbing his ankle with the toe of her leather pumps.

Rick gasps, mock-scandalized.

"Why Katherine Beckett, I never."

Her eyes roll. Dork.

"Kudos for having your mind in the gutter, though. For the _record_ , I have no complaints about dessert at home, but I did have a food item in mind this time."

Kate grins, lifting a shoulder. "No complaints here. And what can I say? You bring the gutter out in me."

He chuckles, opening his mouth and closing it before blurting, "Say you'll come to Thanksgiving dinner in the Hamptons with me and Mother?"

She blinks. Well, that's definitely not what she'd expected him to say. Innuendo, yes, maybe a Star Wars joke about the Padawan becoming the master, but an invitation for a holiday? No.

"What?"

Rick squirms in his seat. Okay, maybe that hadn't been what he'd intended to say either. At least not at that very second.

"Your dad's invited, too, if you – well, if you celebrate together. The last few years we've gone to the Hamptons, just to take a break from the city. Alexis isn't coming; she already told Mother she's working with a community outreach program, so it would just be the three or four of us, depending on your dad."

"I –" she stumbles, searching his face. She doesn't usually do the holidays, either of them, but she doesn't feel the tendrils of devastation at Thanksgiving the way she does at Christmas. "Thanksgiving in the Hamptons?"

Rick nods, swiping his fingers over her knuckles.

"It's relatively low-key, which is rare for us, I know. But it can be bigger if you want it to be."

She chuckles, ducking her head. "Well, you know how much I love huge spreads."

"Oh, of course. You're all about the five course meal." He bites his lip. His hope surrounds them, making her heart thunder against her rib cage. "You don't have to say yes or no right now, but at least say you'll think about it?"

Kate shakes her head, lifting a hand to cup his cheek before his face can fall in misunderstanding. They'll have to talk about Christmas, assuming he wants to spend it with her, but Thanksgiving she can do.

"That sounds great, Rick. Thank you."

He beams, cupping the back of her neck and dragging her into a slow kiss. She's fairly certain she's helped make his month.

"Better than cold potluck leftovers, huh?"

Her eyes narrow; of course the boys told him how she usually spends Thanksgiving. Snitches, the both of them.

"I dunno. Not if you keep gloating," she mutters, squeezing his hand to let him know she's not serious in the least. "I'll ask my dad what he's doing for the holiday, extend the invitation to him."

"Perfect. No pressure if he can't or doesn't want to."

"You just want to see what embarrassing stories you can get him to tell you," she teases, cradling his jaw, watching the delighted flush spread across his cheeks.

"Come on, Kate, you know me; of _course_ I want to hear all your embarrassing stories."

Beckett laughs, stroking his chin. "Of course. And even though it goes against my better judgement, because I know he'd be happy to oblige, I'll ask him."

"Great. Now, let's finish here; I'm dying for our secret dessert."

* * *

The "mystery" dessert turns out to be gourmet cupcakes, handmade and decorated by a high school friend of Alexis's. It's late, later than she's sure the shop usually stays open, but the girl – a tiny golden-haired girl – beams at them when they step inside, making Kate's worry disappear. If they're inconveniencing her, she doesn't show it.

"Hi, Mr. Castle. Good to see you again."

Rick offers the girl a warm greeting, giving her hand a firm shake.

"Hi, Kelsey. Good seeing you, too; it's been a while. How's business?"

Kelsey lifts a shoulder. "It has it's ups and its downs. As long as I'm still here, I can't complain, though."

"That's about all you can do," he agrees. "I'm still sending people your way. Any time I hear someone say they need cupcakes, or any desserts, I give them your name."

Kate leans her cheek on Rick's shoulder, content to let him catch up with Kelsey while her dinner settles. The walk had helped, but standing in the warmth with him helps, too.

The girl nods, enthusiasm radiating from her.

"You have no idea how much it helps, Mr. Castle. And everyone you've sent has been fantastic, too. I like to tell them you and Alexis were my first customers, after my parents."

Rick chuckles. "I'm glad." After a second, he turns to Kate. "She was five, by the way."

Beckett grins. "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. Kelsey and Alexis used to play kitchen in my real kitchen."

That's adorable. She squeezes his arm once before sticking her hand out to the girl. "I'm sorry, I'm being rude. I'm Kate."

"Kate's the birthday girl," Castle adds, looping his arm around her waist.

Kelsey grins. "Mr. Castle told me all about you. It's nice to meet you. I'm Kelsey, obviously."

"It's nice to meet you. Thank you for indulging him with… whatever he's cooking up."

Her boyfriend huffs. "I am merely helping you have a good birthday."

"Sure buddy," she says, turning back to Kelsey. "So you know Alexis?"

The girl smiles, nodding. "Oh yeah. We went to school together for like twelve years. We still try to keep in touch, but it's tough, you know?"

Kate thinks of her high school and college friends. She hasn't kept up with any of them, not in any significant way. They'd all gone in different directions, yes, but after her mother's death, she hadn't tried very hard to stay in touch.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Hopefully you'll be able to reconnect soon."

Kelsey smiles. "I hope so, too. And I should stop talking and let you enjoy the rest of your birthday. Just give me a sec, Mr. Castle, and I'll have your order for you."

Rick thanks her before turning to Kate. She hums, palming his chest.

"You got me cupcakes for my birthday?"

His hands trail down her arms. "Mmm, no. I got you amazing cupcakes for dessert. This isn't your gift."

"What is? A gym membership?" she jokes, listing into him.

"You have one of those. And a ruggedly handsome workout partner, too."

"Uh huh." Her thumb brushes the shadows under his eyes. He winces a little bit; the painkillers must be wearing off. "I think you might be out of commission for sparring with me for a few days."

His hips bump hers. "Not out of commission for other things, though."

That draws a startled laugh from her lips.

"Of course you aren't. Cupcakes first, though."

"Cupcakes have icing, you know…"

Her eyebrows wiggle, but otherwise she doesn't respond. She spins to accept the bag from Kelsey when she returns.

Rick thanks the girl once more, trying (and failing) to be sneaky and slip a little extra cash across the counter. Kate says nothing, though, instead doing her part to distract his daughter's friend.

They emerge from the shop a few moments later, having said their goodbyes. She shivers at the rapid drop in temperature, settling into the curve of her boyfriend's side. She trusts him to keep them both from landing on the concrete as they walk home.

"Thank you," she murmurs as they make the final turn onto her block. "For my birthday and for not making a huge scene."

Castle's mouth brushes her hair. "So I should send the street performers waiting in your hallway home?"

She bumps him just enough to rock him sideways. "Ass."

He laughs, dotting another kiss against the crown of her head. "In all seriousness, you're welcome, Kate. I'm glad you've had fun."

"I have," she promises, digging her keys out of her bag as soon as her building comes into view. "I've loved it."

They step up to her door together, huddling on the stoop as she fits her key into the lock. Walking has been nice, but they're both ready to get somewhere warm.

He crowds at her back, smoothing his lips over the spot behind her ear; the spot he knows drives her insane. "And you are going to _love_ the final part of your night, I assure you."

She shudders, shoving the door open finally. Yanking him inside, she does her best not to crush the cupcakes between them as she seals her mouth over his.

It really has been the best birthday she's had in years. Maybe ever.

* * *

 _A/N: I swear I'll try not to make everyone wait too long for the next chapter. Thank you all!_


	12. Chapter 12

_Happy CastleFanficMonday, everyone! Thank you all for your wonderful, kind words on last chapter. I'm so excited to continue this journey._

* * *

"Hey, boss?"

Looking up from her requisition report, Beckett finds Kevin Ryan leaning into her office, his face hopeful.

Her lips lift. For the majority of her captaincy, her detective has almost exclusively sent Esposito to talk to her about, well, anything. She hopes it's a good sign that he's coming to her now, even if he's only here to talk shop.

"Hey, Ryan. What's up?"

"Are you busy?"

Her pen hits the desk. "Please save me. As you can tell, Castle bailed on me over an hour ago to go play with you guys."

Ryan chuckles, stepping deeper into her office. "What's holding you hostage this time?"

"Requisitions. Apparently, we've used more paperclips in the last six months than we did all last year. I have to decide if I should ask for more or just hope it was a fluke this time around."

He smirks. "Think we can blame Castle for that? He makes those chains to pass notes across the bullpen."

Ah, yes. Her boyfriend's interesting method of alleviating boredom. He really is nine years old sometimes. At the same time, though, it is kind of adorable to watch him brighten everyone's day.

"You know, he actually set up a pretty smart pulley system, but then the janitor made him take it down. Lenny must've tossed the paper clips instead of returning them to supplies."

This time, there's no hiding her affectionate smile. "Yeah, well, next quarter, Castle gets to explain why we need so many."

Ryan flashes another quick grin before turning serious once more. "Ah, speaking of next quarter."

She nods, indicating for him to go on. Now that they're getting down to business, she has an inkling what he's here to discuss; she's not deaf to their chatter, especially given that she's sleeping with the Curly to their Larry and Moe, but she hasn't been willing to butt in until they've seemed ready to talk to her.

It had been disappointing when, despite her wheeling and dealing, she'd been told Ryan and Esposito wouldn't be approved for promotion. At least not until the New Year and not until the boys sat for the exam, which they hadn't seemed to have any inclination to do at the time. Her plan to surprise them had been dead in the water.

"Javi and I want to sit for the Sergeant's exam."

Thank goodness. They both deserved the promotion and damn it, they were going to get it.

"Good. I think you both should. And I don't mean that just as your boss."

"Yeah?" he asks, looking surprised. How he could be surprised that she wants them to get ahead is beyond her, but maybe she needs to be better about acknowledging that.

"Yeah, Kev. I um, to tell you the truth, I tried to bump you guys to the top of the list a few months ago, but without the exam under your belt, they didn't go for it."

He blinks. "You did? Really?"

"Really. I wanted to do something to show you guys that I know how hard you've worked since all of this happened," she pauses, gesturing around the room. "But it kinda backfired on me."

Ryan grins, shaking his head. "It's the thought that counts, I think."

"Yeah, but a little follow-through never hurts either."

"True," he agrees, shifting his weight. There's obviously more on his mind, but it looks like she's going to have to work to get it out of him.

Kate smiles, offering him an M&M from the dish Castle's continually refilling for her.

"What else is up? You look antsy."

He flushes, finding something interesting on the floor for a few seconds. "I, ah, well, do you mind if I cut out early? I'm on for the rest of the week for the holiday, and all weekend." There's no malice in his voice, even though they both know he could be upset that she expects them to be there while she goes away for a few days with her boyfriend. "And I… kind of have a date tonight."

Sitting up straighter, Beckett bites her lip to contain her interest. As far as she knows, he hasn't dated since Jenny… would it be too much to hope that they've somehow rekindled things? "Yeah?"

Ryan nods, looking bashful. "Yeah. I uh, I called Jenny last night and asked her to meet me. She said yes, so we're going to get dinner and hopefully talk things out…"

She's on her feet without a second thought, rounding her desk to bear hug her friend. Kevin laughs, returning her affection with gusto. It feels easy, it feels like the way it was before.

"I am so happy to hear that. Go, go. Come in late tomorrow if you want to."

He sputters, forcing her to review what she'd just said.

"I meant in case you're out late tonight. Because you're going to be talki – forget it. My point is, I'll be here early for the next few days, I can keep an eye on your desk tomorrow, too."

Ryan smiles. "You're leaving Wednesday?"

She nods. "Yeah. My dad's not coming –"

"Fishing?" he interrupts. They both know her father usually spends time away from the city around the holidays.

"Yeah, with the guy he's sponsoring. They made the plans before I asked him to dinner and Max is really looking forward to it, so he didn't have the heart to cancel. So Rick and I are driving to Castle's place after my last meeting at 1PP Wednesday night."

"Gotcha. In that case, thanks. I'll uh, maybe take you up on that. Thanks, Beckett."

Nodding, she steps back to give him a little space. He offers her another grateful smile before leaving her office and practically skidding to grab his jacket from the back of his chair.

"Night, guys. And thanks, Castle."

Kate perches in her doorway, watching the boys perform their overly complicated handshake before Ryan disappears toward the elevator.

"Good luck, bro," Esposito calls to his back.

"And don't forget the honey milk!" Castle adds, pinching his fingers a second later for Espo to 'feed the birds.'

Spinning, she grabs her empty coffee mug off her desk and steps out to join them. She doesn't _need_ the excuse; they'll welcome her even if she's empty-handed, but old habits are hard to break.

"Thanks, Castle? Did you give him advice or something?"

Rick preens, chest puffing with pride under her scrutiny.

"I did. I gave him some truly excellent advice."

"Hopefully the advice you followed on our second date, not our first," she teases, stepping closer and knocking their elbows together.

"Uh huh. I think I did even better than that, actually."

Espo snorts. "Better? He laid it on thick for us the other day. Said if Ryan really thinks Jenny's the one, then he shouldn't let anything get in the way. And what better time to go make amends than at the holidays?"

Glancing at her boyfriend, she finds him squirming a little, his cheeks an interesting shade of pink. Rick lifts a shoulder, feigning nonchalance.

"Call me a hopeless romantic, but I think those two kids really have a chance."

Her fingers flex against her coffee mug. Flippant as he can be sometimes, as hard as he tries to hide it, it's sweet how deeply he feels.

It's also kind of sexy.

Okay, very sexy.

"That's really sweet, Castle," she murmurs, looking up at him from under her lashes.

"Plus, think of the improvement to his mood if they do get back together."

Kate sighs. "And you've ruined it."

Castle and Esposito laugh, bumping fists. Oh, the male need to posture. That's far less sweet.

"Okay, funny man. Take your stand-up act into the break room and work that fancy espresso machine for me? Please?"

He's tried to teach her how to use it, but every time she attempts to make her own, it's a bitter disappointment – no pun intended. It's better if he does it.

Rick's fingers slip over hers as he takes her mug. "I will be right back."

"Thank you," she hums, allowing her eyes to follow him all the way into the other room. Maybe it's the lighting, maybe it's the jeans, but she can't deny that he looks particularly good today.

Espo's watching, bemused, when she turns to face him.

Her eyes narrow. "Yes, Detective?"

He feigns innocence. "Nothing. Why don't I tell you where we left off with the Harris case?"

"Mmm, good call."

She settles on Ryan's desk, resting her hands on her thighs and nodding for Esposito to begin.

They're debating the legitimacy of their prime suspect's alibi when her skin prickles with awareness. Castle's on his way back.

"Need to use my desk?" she asks as he nears. His face is bright, and she's knows by now that it means he's had an idea. He needs to sit and write to get it out of his head.

"Ah, not this time. I'm gonna just… run home and get this down. Make sure it fits with what I have already instead of guessing. That okay?"

Her coffee sloshes as he hands it over, but they manage to right the mug before there's any damage done.

"Yeah, of course that's okay. I think we can survive one afternoon without you, Castle," she teases.

"Hah hah," he pretends to grumble, turning back to the murder board. "Hmm, you sure about that? Cause I think my expertise is needed here; you're totally overlooking the right guy and going for the obvious choice."

"Who?" she scoffs, trying to see what he sees. "The delivery guy checked out. GPS in his truck confirmed he was driving his route all day long."

"Yeah, but the route goes right past our victim's apartment and around the block. Who's to say he didn't just park it at his next stop and double back on foot?"

He must see the wheels start to turn in her mind, because he hums in self-satisfaction, brushing a kiss over her cheek. "Call me later; let me know how it turns out."

She hums an acknowledgement, but her eyes don't leave the board. Could it really be that simple?

Maybe it can be.

Clearing her throat, she stands once more. "Look into it, Javi."

Esposito looks skeptical. "Really? You think it was the delivery guy over the friend who was seen arguing with the victim and then drowning his sorrows in the middle of the day?"

"It makes sense. If this guy was as hammered as everyone says he was, he might've been able to kill her, but would he have had the dexterity to swing our victim over his shoulder, carry her down the stairs, and get her into the recycling bin? All without being seen? The driver could've parked around the corner, acted like he was coming back to make another delivery, killed her and shoved her into a box, carried her down, dumped her body, and then gone about his business. I hate to say it, but Castle could be right."

Her detective stares for a moment before his face splits into a grin.

Beckett tilts her head. "What?"

"Nothing. Nothing. It's just, you back each other up. Castle said almost the same thing. Oh, maybe you're starting to think alike."

"Funny," she drawls, relishing in the thrill of being back here, actually helping to solve things instead of seeing the final reports. God, it feels good.

"Hey, I didn't ask you to click with the guy. But you did."

Her eyes narrow, but Javi simply lifts his shoulders once more.

"Beckett, how long've we known each other? Who else gets you the way Castle does?"

"Yes, Oprah. Thank you for the sage wisdom."

"I'm just saying. Anyone else does the things he does, and you'd bust them back down to traffic."

Beckett purses her lips. "I can't bust Castle down to anything; he's not a cop. And besides, even if I did throw him out, he'd just keep coming back. Like he has half a dozen times already."

"Yeah, like you're complaining." Off her look, he adds, "Cap'n."

"Uh huh." She's not angry, though. The familiar teasing is working wonders for her mood. "Get more information on delivery man and let me know what you find out, will you?"

Javi nods, reaching for the phone. "On it, boss."

"Good." With that, she heads back to her office, ready to tackle her reports once more.

Two hours later, Espo sticks his head in. "I think we should get a warrant for his clothes and to search the truck. It'll be morning before we can see the judge, though, unless –"

"Unless?" she asks, arching an eyebrow. He wouldn't have come to her to tell her this unless there's a catch.

"Well, unless Castle can call a friend and get it signed faster. Like tonight."

"Thought we've been training him not to abuse his connections?"

"Yeah, but do you really want to have this case stretch over the holiday?"

She doesn't. She hates not getting things done, hates the idea of Regina Harris's family going without answers because of an impending holiday.

"No, I don't. We're already working on the assumption that he hasn't destroyed the evidence. I don't want to give him more opportunity to do it." She waves for Espo to sit before she reaches for her phone to make the call. Hopefully Rick isn't too deep in his writing fog to pick up.

"Hey," he rumbles after the third ring. "Miss me already?"

Her cheeks flush; she does, but right now that has to take a backseat to her request. "Something like that. We need a search warrant for the truck and our driver friend's clothes. Think you can call in a favor and get it for us tonight? Espo'll go pick it up."

"Ah, yes, my insight has once again proven invaluable."

Kate rolls her eyes. The fastest way to get him started is to tell him he was right.

"But for you, Beckett, I won't gloat. And I will give my good friend a call as soon as we hang up."

"Thank you, oh selfless one. Your sacrifice astounds me."

"You're welcome. See you later?"

She could agree flat-out, tell him that she'll come to his place once she leaves work, but where's the fun in that?

"Mmm, maybe. You'll have to wait and see."

Rick chuckles in her ear, low and sexy. "Well if it helps you decide, I'll cook for you. And I can offer my talented fingers for a massage. Your shoulder looked stiff earlier."

"Tempting," she singsongs, ignoring Espo's look of disgust. He might not be able to hear Castle's end of the conversation, but he's a detective; he can figure out the gist. "Let me know when I'm clear to send Espo."

"On it," he promises. "And I will see you in a little bit."

"Thanks, Castle."

She hangs up, checking her volume just to be sure. It shouldn't be too long, unless Castle gets to talking about playing golf with the judge. Again.

"He's on it."

Esposito grins, leaning back in his chair. He doesn't say a thing, he doesn't have to. The tease is there regardless.

"Shut up," Beckett orders, lifting her pen once more.

* * *

Thanksgiving with Castle is… different.

It's been a few years since she last celebrated, she knows, but never before has she woken on Thanksgiving to find pumpkin muffins and coffee on her nightstand. Never before has she devoured the offering beneath a cozy duvet and let the world come alive around her. She has no idea how long Castle has been awake, but the house already smells good – rosemary and thyme, maybe even a hint of lemon – and she finally drags herself out of bed to see what she can do to help.

When she pads into the kitchen with her coffee mug cradled against her chest, Rick greets her with surprising enthusiasm.

"Morning, Kate!"

"Mmm, morning," she says around a yawn, looking him over. Yeah, he's wired. "How much coffee have you had?"

She slips beside him, intent on pressing a kiss to the curve of his bicep, only to have him dart to the other side of the counter for an onion and the celery. She must make an annoyed noise, because he practically skids back to her, the apology already forming on his lips.

"Sorry. Hi," he whispers, centering himself before slipping an arm around her waist and drawing her in. His mouth cover hers, warm and soft. He tastes like said coffee and spice, with a tiny hint of brown sugar as well.

"Been sneaking treats, Rick?" she teases, flicking her tongue against the corner of his lips.

"Not until you walked in."

It's a cheesy, cheesy line, but she still shivers a little bit. Ridiculous. Grinning at his own cleverness, he presses another kiss to her mouth.

"How were the muffins? I sampled the mix, but not the final product."

Tucking her head against his shoulder, Kate squeezes him. "Wait, you made them? From scratch?"

"Uh huh," he hums, swaying with her. It can barely be classified as dancing, but she joins in, sweeping her hand up his back.

"They were delicious. I thought about saving you one, but I ended up eating them both. Sorry."

Rick chuckles, tracing the ridges of her spine through her shirt. "No, no. Both were for you. And there are more down here. I've been too busy to eat."

Kate frowns. "You should've woken me up. I would've helped get things together."

"I know, but I wanted to let you catch up on your sleep. Plus, you were dead to the world when I got out of bed. I will admit, I gave myself a little pat on the back for that," he adds, patting her ass for emphasis.

Her eyes roll, but she doesn't admonish him; he did do good work last night after giving her the tour of his place.

"Uh huh, but where's your mom? I thought she would be here to help you."

"Ah, Mother is helping exactly the way she should be – she's off visiting a friend for the morning while the food is being prepared. Trust me, you don't want her assistance in the kitchen. Not unless you want Thanksgiving dinner to consist of pizza delivery from a place that makes a killing off of hapless cooks each year."

She winces. "That bad?"

"Let's just say it's a good thing she can afford catering when she hosts parties."

Chuckling, Kate nods. "Still, you should've woken me. It's my dinner, too, so let's work on it together."

She looks up in time to see something she's not quite sure she's ready to name flash across his face. It's gone a split second later, but it was there, and that's enough to set her heart a flutter.

"Absolutely. But first, can I refill your coffee?"

"Well, I have to catch up with you, so sure."

They work side by side, trading gentle barbs and samples of the sides they're crafting. She has a feeling that, in the end, the spread will be better suited for a dozen people instead of just the three of them, but it doesn't matter. They can take the leftovers home to the city and leave them at the precinct for everyone to enjoy if it comes to that. It's worth it to see how Rick lights up as they work.

Around noon, she sends him into the living room to rest. He's been up since God only knows when, and she can tell he's starting to drag. Ten minutes after he settles onto the plush couch, she checks in to find him passed out, his face slack with sleep. She covers him with the throw from the back of the chair, giving in to the urge to kiss his forehead.

He's so out of it, he doesn't even stir at the shutter sound from her phone's camera.

She hates to do it, but she wakes him a little while later to get his help. The turkey is so large that maneuvering the pan to check the internal temperature requires a spotter. Rick can say what he wants about his mother's cooking, but she'll be the one banned from the kitchen if she drops the turkey or sends them to the ER on their first Thanksgiving together.

"We'll check it again in a little bit," he rumbles, leaning into the hand she cards through his hair. He's always like this when he first wakes up, quiet and a bit clumsy as he shakes himself out of hibernation. Next year, she'll have to find a way to keep him from getting up so damn early.

Dragging her teeth over her lip, Kate lifts onto her toes and blows a raspberry on his neck. Rick jolts, laughter bubbling forth a second later.

"Just making sure you're awake." She grins, stepping back, away from his wide eyes and mischievous grin.

Retribution is coming, she knows that much, and she would rather have the opportunity to run while she still can.

Instead of retaliating, though, he stretches and scoops a bottle of Merlot off the counter, offering it to her.

"Sure, Rick, I'll take some wine."

He smiles, pouring them both a glass.

"Be ready, Beckett," he warns on the hand off, stealing a kiss from her that leaves her breathless.

Oh, she's ready.

He strikes later, much later, once his mother has returned and the turkey is resting and waiting to be carved. She's stirring butter into their mashed potatoes and listening to one of his mother's exuberant stories when he steps behind her and settles his hands on her hips. She braces herself, expecting him to get his revenge and dart away. He surprises her, though. Instead of a raspberry like she gave him, his lips trail along the back of her neck, nipping lightly.

She shudders, reaching back with her free hand to cup his neck. He's cheating. This is actually cheating.

Across from them, Martha chuckles, excusing herself to give them some modicum of privacy. Kate feels a stab of guilt for running her off, until Rick does it again. And again. The same nuzzle, trail, nip, tease, over and over until she has to grip the counter to stay upright.

She clears her throat, pushing back into him anyway. "Rick. Your mother is home. She's in the other room."

His breath hitches, but he stays on task, smoothing his lips behind her ear once more.

Only to smack the loudest, wettest, most obnoxious kiss he can possibly manage against her skin and pull away.

"Gotcha," he teases, calling for his mom to come retrieve the plates and set the dining room table.

Kate feels her cheeks flame, but she laughs anyway.

"Funny, Castle. Now hurry up and feed us; we haven't been snacking all day the way you have."

"One feast, coming right up."

* * *

 _A/N: _I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you.__


	13. Chapter 13

_Thank you all, as always, for the wonderful words on the last chapter. I cannot begin to describe what your encouragement means to me._

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

"Kay, so wait – just to make sure I'm on the same page – he tried to run with his pants around his ankles."

"Uh huh." How she manages to keep a straight face is beyond him, but she does.

"And his pants were around his ankles because, in the middle of burying the body, he'd realized he needed to pee."

Tugging the duvet higher over her bare shoulders, his girlfriend nods. "Yup. Decided to just drop them right next to the body and everything."

Rick shakes with the effort to control his laughter. That is… the best thing he has ever heard.

Kate huffs, swatting at him in an effort to keep him still. Her head settles on his shoulder once more once he calms.

"So we approached and ID'd ourselves like usual, and of course we startled him. So he _whipped_ around, and that was when I realized he was still…" she pauses to gesture, which only sets him off again. God, she has some of the best stories. "Taking care of business."

"He wasn't."

"Oh he was," she insists, choking on her laughter, teasing her fingertip over his chest. "Full stream and everything."

"So did he stop? The waterworks, I mean."

She shakes her head, cackling against his skin. "He ran. Well, waddled is more like it. And it was just…"

Oh jeez, his sides ache from mocking this poor dumb bastard.

"And then he tripped, right? Tell me he tripped."

His girlfriend nods, swiping mirth-induced tears from her eyes as she nods.

"Tripped over a tree root and landed in a truly unattractive position. And he scraped his… manhood… when he fell."

He guffaws, gripping Kate's hip to keep from bucking her off the bed with his laughter.

"That is," he wheezes, dapping at his eyes. "The best thing I have ever heard. I mean, it is awful, and I'm sorry if he traumatized you for life, but it's also the best thing ever. Can I use that in the book? Or something like that?"

Gentle fingers slip along his collarbone. Her mouth follows a moment later, trailing an easy path across his chest.

"Considering the other actual events I know you'll be writing about, go for it."

Her lips twist to let him know she's just teasing. The thought of being memorialized in print doesn't bother her the way it did before; she almost seems excited most of the time, save for a few quibbles here and there.

"I'll have you know that there is only one scene that bears any semblance to our actual sexy times. The rest are simply products of my highly active imagination."

Kate snickers into his chest, rubbing his side. "I like your imagination."

Shivering, he pulls her closer. "I do, too. But I admit I can only tap into that genius because you, Kate, are very inspiring."

"Then I think we could use one more brainstorming session before we start our day, don't you?" she asks, lips brushing his jaw.

Damn, his girlfriend is sexy.

"I think you make a very sound point, Captain Beckett."

They laugh together, pressing into an easy kiss. When she rocks closer, she's insistent, urgent, and his breath escapes his lungs on a low groan.

Instead of pressing him back, she stills, mouth smudged against his.

"Wha?" he breathes.

"Shh, did – do you hear something?"

Rick hums, not hearing much over the heady thrum of his blood in his ears.

"No?" he offers, swiping his lips along her jaw and down the graceful column of her throat.

Kate sucks in a breath, palming the back of his head with a steady hand. "Right. Okay, sorry. Sorry. Imagine away, Mr. Cas-"

They both freeze at the knock – apparently she wasn't hearing things after all – but it's the call of her name that has his girlfriend's face paling.

"Oh, shit. It's my dad."

Pushing on his shoulders and scrambling out of bed, Kate searches the floor and then her drawers for something to wear. His shirt – pants, too – hit him in the face before he manages to formulate an actual thought.

"Your – wait, your dad?"

She huffs, shimmying into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a long sleeve shirt before yanking a hand through her sleep and sex-mussed hair.

"Damn it. We were supposed to have brunch today. I completely forgot. I'll tell him I overslept, but you need to hide."

Rick blinks. "What? Why do I have to hide?"

"Not for long," she promises, urging him to slip into his boxers if nothing else. "I'll go answer the door and tell him I'm running late and I'll get changed. You just… hide."

"Kate," he scoffs, getting to his feet anyway. "Where do you want me to go? Your closet? And why? You know I would've met your dad at Thanksgiving if he hadn't already had plans, right?"

She stares at him, breaking only to call an insistent "I'm _coming_ ," to the empty living room. To him, she adds,

"Well, yes, I know that. But he wasn't going to meet you like _this_ , was he? No. So shut up, put your pants on, and get in the closet."

He does love when she gets bossy. Yanking his boxers over his hips, Rick grabs his discarded undershirt and tosses it over his head. "I'm not getting in the closet."

"Will you just do as I ask and get in the closet?" She crowds into his space, urging him backwards. His hands skim her hips, only to be knocked away as she glares at him.

"I'm not getting in the closet, Kate," he refuses, dodging her nudging hands. "I won't even _fit_ , by the way. But for you, I will go to the bathroom and give you a few minutes."

His girlfriend relaxes. "Fine, fine. Thank you. I'll be right back and I'll give you the rest of the plan then."

"The rest of the plan?"

Her answering glare is enough to shut him up. Holding up his hands in surrender, he steps into the bathroom. His toes curl against the tile, and it's all he can do to avoid yelping as a shiver rolls up his spine. "Okay, okay fine. Fine. I'm waiting here."

Beckett exhales, lifting onto her toes to brush her lips across his.

"Thank you. And oh, maybe don't flush? Just yet? And pee quietly?"

Pee quietly? Rick can't contain the snicker. "Kate –"

"Sorry, sorry, that's stupid. Just… don't make too much noise. The walls aren't that thick."

Yeah, he knows that; he has heard everything Mr. Kubiak next door does in his bathroom and it is not pretty. Still, he gives her a nod, watching her scurry away.

His lips split wide. Oh, this will be _perfect_ ammo for some wonderful, joyous, future day. Just when she thinks she has lived this down, he'll remind her. Oh, he will remind her.

She actually _hid_ him from her father. The unflappable, never to be ruffled Kate Beckett had all-but forced him to hide under her bed like they were sixteen and he had been caught climbing in her bedroom window.

He hears Kate let her dad into the apartment, and though their voices are muted, he knows they're in the kitchen talking.

After a few minutes, the conversation ceases and she comes shuffling through her bedroom, her feet slapping gently on the hardwood. With her back, Rick takes that as his cue to deal with his more pressing business.

His girlfriend slips into the bathroom as he's washing his hands. Even in the mirror, he can see her cheeks are an adorable, rosy shade of pink.

"I told him I'm getting dressed," she whispers, stepping into Rick's side. "He wanted coffee, so I made him one of the single-cups. Once he's done, we'll head to the diner. Think you can lay low in here until we leave?"

Rick gapes. She's really committed to this, isn't she? "Why, Captain Beckett, are you ashamed of me?" he asks, reaching around her to dry his hands.

He's just teasing her, but Kate's eyes flare wide as if he is being serious. "Rick, Rick, no. I just… don't want you to meet my dad this way. Remember when your mom slipped on my bra? Remember how embarrassing that was? I just don't want his first time meeting you to be a glaring neon sign that we were in flagrante delicto."

"You are so hot when you speak Latin to me," he hums, cupping the back of her head. Kate grins, curling her fingers at his waist. "I get it, Kate. Just because _my_ mother and I have no boundaries, doesn't mean your relationship with your father is the same."

His mouth lands on hers, taking a slow kiss from her lips. His girlfriend shudders against him, breathing his name.

"But that doesn't mean I'm not going to remind you of this from time to time," he adds, singing the promise into her kiss. "You hid me in your bathroom, Beckett. Tried to hide me in your closet."

"Shut up," she grumbles, sliding her cold fingers under his shirt. "Maybe I just don't want him to meet you when you have that just-got-laid look on your face and a hickey on your neck."

Slapping his neck, Castle schools his face. "You gave me a hickey? Kate!"

"Will you hush?" she hisses. She peels his hand away from his throat, only to replace his fingers with her lips, soft, warm lips.

He hums her name, slipping his fingers into her hair to hold her close.

Her tongue darts out, taking a lazy lap at his skin. "I will make this up to you, Rick, in _so_ many ways."

"Gonna hold you to that," he groans, blinking through the haze of renewed arousal. God, what this woman does to him.

"You can, I promise," she says, nuzzling his throat with her nose. "I'll make sure we're gone in a few minutes, kay?"

He nods, watching her duck back into her bedroom to change clothes. He can't help but observe the way she wiggles into her jeans, laughing when she flops back against her unmade bed.

"Quiet," she orders, reaching for her shirt once the battle against the denim has been won. "You try wearing skinny jeans and see how easy it is to get them on."

"Mmm, I would, but you look so sexy, I'd hate to put you to shame with my own rugged handsomeness."

Kate grins, swatting his fingers away from her calf. "Funny. Help me up?"

Taking her outstretched hands, he hauls her to her feet once more, snagging her mouth for a devastating kiss before releasing her.

"Kay, I'll hang out in here until you guys leave," he rasps, watching her swallow her desire and straighten her shoulders.

His girlfriend brushes her fingertips over his jaw. "Thank you."

She sneaks one more kiss before slipping away, throwing her hair into a loose, messy ponytail as she ducks beyond her bedroom door.

Rick pads around to his side of the bed, tugging the rumpled covers into neat lines and smoothing out the imprints of their heads on the pillow they'd spent most of the night sharing. He'll finish getting dressed in a few minutes, right now he's content to listen to the quiet melody of Kate's laugh.

He wonders how long it took Kate and her father to get back to this point, to the point of quiet conversations and gentle happiness. How long had it taken to rebuild the trust between them?

After a while, the apartment grows quiet; they must have left without him hearing the door close. Understandable, really, since he is three rooms away and even if Kate slammed it, the door is never that loud. In any case, the silence means it's time for him to change clothes and leave.

Retrieving the rest of his things from the top of Kate's dresser, Rick fills his pockets and slips his feet into his worn leather shoes. Glancing around the room, he finds himself turning down one corner of the duvet; she'll scowl when she sees it, but a little less perfect order works.

Imagine his surprise when he steps out of the bedroom to find Kate and her father staring at him from the kitchen island.

Well, that plan backfired spectacularly.

"I, ah," he stumbles for an explanation, managing only to come up with a weak, "I thought you'd already left."

Kate flushes, licking her lips and glancing at her father before turning back to Rick. "I was going to text you when we were clear."

"Oh." Well why didn't she say that? That would have been good information to have.

The elder Beckett seems to come alive at that, shaking himself out of his stunned silence and turning to his daughter. "You know, Katie, I seem to remember a similar incident of you sneaking a boy in and out of your room when you were in high school."

Kate sputters. "That's not… I mean…" she sighs, covering her face with her palm for a moment. "Dad, this is my boyfriend Rick Castle. Rick, this is my dad, Jim."

Rick sticks his hand out, giving the old man's hand a firm shake. "Nice to meet you, sir."

"Jim, please. And it's nice to meet you, too. I'm sorry we weren't able to get together for Thanksgiving."

He nods, repeating her father's name as if to remind himself. "I am, too. Another time, though."

"That sounds great."

Murmuring his agreement, Rick looks to Kate for guidance. She gives him a quick smile, tugging at the back of his shirt.

"Make you some coffee?" she asks, lifting an eyebrow.

"I… you don't want me to get going?"

Kate shakes her head, offering him her seat when she stands. "Sit, Rick. We're all grown-ups here. Mostly; there is you."

"Hey," he protests, earning a lopsided grin from his girlfriend and a chuckle from her father. Humor test passed.

"So, Rick, you look familiar."

Is this a trick? Albeit he hasn't been in the public eye recently, but at one point he had been _fairly_ well known.

"I, well, I don't want to brag, but I –"

"Dad," Kate admonishes from the other counter. "He's giving you a hard time, Rick. He knows who you are."

Jim rumbles another laugh. "I am giving you a hard time. I'm sorry; I just couldn't help myself. My wife enjoyed your books. Katie still does, if I'm not mistaken," he adds, his voice lifting on a quiet tease.

Kate sighs, rubbing her forehead. "You think you're hilarious, don't you?"

"Honey, I think that because I am hilarious."

Rick watches the two of them banter, remembering how easily the same teasing had once come to him and Alexis. Even as he laughs at the Becketts, his chest aches at his daughter's absence.

"Your mom read my books, too?" he asks when Kate brings his coffee over, touching the curve of her waist with hesitant fingers. She inhales, and he worries he's overstepped, but she's able to offer him a gentle smile upon exhale.

"Yeah, Castle. She read them, too. She picked up the first one after finishing a Patterson novel; she wanted to compare."

She leans her hip against his stool, reaching past him for her own mug.

"They had their own book club, I think," Jim adds.

Kate huffs. "Dad. It was not like that. We read _many_ books, we just also happened to read a couple of Castle's. Only a couple."

"What? It's a compliment, isn't it?" Jim looks innocent.

"I think it's a huge compliment," Rick insists, smoothing his hand over Kate's side. He'd already known the books had helped her, but knowing they were also a connection of some sort to her mom? It's humbling beyond anything else.

She hums, curling her fingers around his and squeezing hard. It lets him know they're on shaky ground, but she's okay for now. "I didn't read most of them until after she died," she murmurs, looking up at him from under her lashes. "And you already know how they helped me then."

Impulse has him leaning in and pressing his mouth to hers. She tastes bittersweet against his lips, in spite of the hazelnut syrup she uses in her coffee when she's not at his place, but she gives him as much as she can, lets him take on her burden for even a moment.

"Best compliment ever," he murmurs when he pulls away, thumbing a slow arc on her side. His girlfriend exhales, her lips lifting.

"Damn right it is." Kate clears her throat, looking back to her dad.

Jim offers them both an apologetic smile.

"So, sweetheart, you started to tell me about work," he starts, leading them to a more neutral topic.

"Right," Kate says, leaning into Rick's side a bit more. "It's good. Really good. Honestly, it's better than it has been in a long time."

Rick hides a smile behind the rim of his mug. She hadn't been happy at work before they met, and now she is; he's helping with more than just their case closure numbers. He won't lie and say pride doesn't flare through his belly because of that.

"Good. And Javier and Kevin are doing okay?"

She hums in confirmation. "Yeah, they're both good."

"Ryan and Jenny – I don't know if you ever met her, I still haven't met her, actually – might be back together," Rick adds. Kate turns a look on him; oh, apparently that is an overshare. Whoops.

"And you can tell who the new precinct gossip is," she teases, giving him a saccharine smile when he sticks his tongue out. "Karpowski _loves_ him."

Jim chuckles, and Rick turns to find him studying the both of them. Whatever he's looking for, he must find because he just smiles and changes the subject once again.

"How is your book research going, Rick? I have to admit, I was surprised when Katie told me about it. It's a bit unorthodox, isn't it?"

Rick lifts a shoulder. "A bit, I suppose. It's going really well, though. We have a good system. Kate still hates the name I picked out for the character I'm basing on her, but I think she'll come around eventually."

Kate huffs. "She still has a stripper name, Castle. I'm not coming around."

"It's not _that_ bad," he drawls.

"Nikki Heat," she clips, lifting an eyebrow. "Dad, what do you think when you hear the name _Nikki Heat_?"

"Well, it's a… creative name…"

"Hah," Rick crows in triumph. "He likes it, Beckett."

"He didn't say that. That was his polite way of saying it's a stripper name. A stripper cop name. Like something out of a bad episode of Miami Vice."

Jim seems to be content to let them duke it out, because Rick sees him lift his coffee to his lips instead of offering any clarification on the subject.

"Okay, one, there are no bad episodes of Miami Vice. Two, when you read it, you will see that Nikki is a strong, nuanced character no matter what her name is."

Kate glares at her father for laughing before turning her unimpressed face on him. "If it doesn't matter what her name is, then change it."

"Oh, but think of the titles, Kate. _Summer Heat_ , _Heat Wave_ , _Unholy Heat_ …"

" _Unholy Heat_?" she repeats. "Like _Unholy Storm_? Reusing your own title is cheating, you know."

Jim barks a laugh at his gawk. "She knows your work, son."

"That she does," he hums, lifting his eyebrows to Kate.

"Quiet, both of you. And finish your coffee, I want to go eat."

"I'm invited?"

Kate rolls her eyes. "Yes, Rick, you're invited. Though keep teasing me and you might be uninvited."

"Nope. Can't do that. I have officially accepted your invitation. There are no take backs."

"There could be take backs," she retorts, downing the rest of her coffee. "But I'll be nice and refrain."

Rick grins. "In that case, thank you for allowing me to join you."

Beside him, Kate softens. "We don't mind having another mouth at the table. Do we, Dad?"

Jim shakes his head, giving his daughter an easy smile. "Not at all."

* * *

The loft is quiet when he lets himself in after brunch. It's not late, but he knows his mother is either already at the theater, preparing for tonight's show, or still with her new paramour. He's never sure which unless she tells him, and frankly, he doesn't _want_ to know if she's with some guy she picked up at last week's after-party.

Wherever she is, he's grateful for the silence. Brunch had been fantastic. Kate's father is a funny, intelligent man, and he's convinced that Kate inherited much of her dry humor from Jim. The three of them had entertained each other like old friends, and when he had stopped to watch his companions, they had entertained him.

Nevertheless, as wonderful as the meal had been, it had also made him long to talk to his own daughter and hear her affectionate, at times exasperated, whine of his name. He wants to call, God does he want to, but still he hesitates. Trading a few texts here and there doesn't mean she's ready to talk, and it certainly doesn't mean she is ready to forgive.

Sucking up his pride and pushing away his fears, he dials anyway. The worst that can happen is she ignores it and the call goes to voicemail. It wouldn't be the first time, and a part of him is sure it won't be the last.

The phone rings in his ear once, twice, making his agitation tick upward with each trill. His knee bounces so hard it nearly bashes the bottom of his desk drawer.

"Hello?"

Call him a coward, but he freezes. It's been so long since they've talked; the last time she was in the city, she had barely said two words to him at a time, keeping things short and perfunctory. Hearing her voice now…

"Hello?" his daughter repeats, the slur of sleep fading from her greeting as annoyance take its place.

"Ah, sorry. Sorry. Hey. Hey, pumpkin, it's me. Dad. Your dad."

"Dad?" she echoes, her voice flat. "Do you know what time it is out here?"

"Almost noon?" he offers, checking his watch to confirm. He's not used to her sleeping late; before she moved, she rarely stayed in bed past nine even on weekends.

"Oh." He hears her covers rustle before she exhales. "So it is."

"Late night?"

He doesn't mean anything by it, but she bristles anyway. "You would know, wouldn't you?"

Ouch.

He must say it aloud, because she sighs. "That was out of line, I'm sorry."

Given the number of times he hadn't been able to hide his late nights from her, he probably deserves it.

"You're okay. So um, how are you? How's work?"

Alexis is quiet just long enough that he has to check the phone to see if the call has dropped. It hasn't; she's just gathering her thoughts.

"It's okay. We're starting a new initiative after the first of the year. It should be good, hopefully."

"What is it?" he asks, leaning back in his chair for the first time since dialing his daughter's phone number. His back screams in relief as the tension he had been carrying is released little by little.

"Rooftop bamboo forests. It's to help clean the air. A friend of mine is the one who came up with it, and I was able to get my organization to provide the funding and the infrastructure. I know it probably sounds silly, but –"

"No," he interrupts, fierce in his need to reassure her. "No, it sounds really cool. Interesting. Tell me more about it?"

There's another pause before Alexis inhales. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with the Richard Castle I've known for the last five years?"

It would be an amusing question, if not for the fact that she's right; he had been a different person for so long. He doesn't blame her for her skepticism, either. Without being here to see firsthand how things have changed, he would be skeptical, too. She has every right to wonder about him.

"The pod person has finally left," he answers, pushing the stab of sadness away.

"Yeah? Where'd he go?"

"Hopefully back to space. For good."

Alexis hums, but says nothing more. Instead of pushing her before she's ready, he waits it out, ready for whatever she might offer to him next.

"You threw out the book a few months ago," she says finally. He hears the sound of a cabinet and ice falling into a glass, and imagines her padding into the lavish kitchen Meredith insisted she needed when Alexis moved in with her.

"Yeah, I did. I should have done it sooner. I'm also writing again. Really writing; none of that other stuff.

Her glass hits the counter, hard. He really is shocking her today, isn't he?

"Really? Like a new Derrick Storm? Are you bringing him back from the dead?"

"Better. A brand new character, Nikki Heat. She's based off of someone really great."

It's the wrong thing to say. As quickly as her excitement had built, it fizzles away in an instant.

"Someone huh? It's always someone, Dad."

Rubbing his forehead, he takes a slow breath. "It's not like that, Alexis. Yes, we are seeing each other, but it's different. Kate's different."

"How?" Alexis challenges. "How is she different from the Amandas, or the Tatianas, or any of the others?"

Yes, he does deserve that. He still remembers seeing the shutters drop over his daughter's face when she'd come to pick him up from jail after he and a woman whose name he never even got had become a little too acquainted in public. That incident had been the last straw in his already strained relationship with her. Less than four months later, she had graduated high school and announced her intention to move to LA.

"Well, she's a cop for one. And she hated me at first. _Hated_ me. We met at a charity thing and I asked her out –"

"Uh huh."

"And I made a fool of myself," he finishes, hoping to banish the note of frustration from her voice. "An absolute fool. And then I did it again a second time."

"Oh, Dad."

"Uh huh. But she let me make it up to her, and we've been together ever since. I didn't even start thinking about the book until July or August."

"When did you meet?"

"May."

"Wow. You've… really? That long?"

"Really. It's, I think it's going really well. I met her dad today. Actually seeing them together was what made me call you. Instead of just texting to say hi."

"Why?"

It is a fair question. Why today? Why only reach out after meeting his girlfriend's father, instead of swallowing his pride sooner, and doing so for his own daughter's sake?

"Because I miss you, honey. I always miss you, yeah, but today it made me miss you more. Kate and her dad… they went through some bad stuff, but they're stronger for it now. And I don't know if that will be us – maybe I've messed up too badly to fix it – but I want to try if you'll let me. I'm just… I'm so sorry for everything, sweetheart."

"Dad," she croaks, and he can picture her swiping at her eyes, her face splotching pink. She might not have red hair anymore, but she will always have a redhead's complexion. "I'm sorry, too. And I miss you. The real you. I saw this ridiculous thing the other day, and it made me think of you. I almost sent you a picture, but…"

"Send the picture next time. Please."

His daughter exhales. "Yeah. Okay, yeah, I will. I will. So you're, you're doing okay?"

"I'm doing even better than that now," he promises, not wanting her to worry about him any longer. She has worried about him enough in the last few years. "Are you?"

"Yeah, I am. Even better than that now," she echoes, clearing her throat. "You're really writing again?"

"I am. I can send you the first few chapters if you'd like?" She hasn't read one of his chapters since before he wrote _Finite Laughter_.

"I would, of course I would. Does Gina know? Are you even still working with Gina?"

He hums. "Done. I'll email it soon. And yes, Gina knows. We're going to release it next year, September, so there's plenty of time for rewrites and marketing."

Plus, it's time to cover their butts if he ends up with writer's block and bails, but that is a contingency they won't need.

"That's a good plan," she agrees, humming in contentment, and he just knows she's settling into a chair to mull everything over. "And your girlfriend's name is Kate? And she's a cop."

"Uh huh. A captain, NYPD. I've been going to work with her, too, and it is _so_ cool."

His chest expands with his daughter's laugh. He's able to make her laugh again, and not in a snide, derisive way. An honest to God expression of her joy.

"Hopefully she hasn't let you have a gun."

"No, no gun, though I've tried. No handcuffs either."

At least not on the job. But he won't share that detail. The days of oversharing with Alexis have ended.

"Mmm, that's probably for the best," she teases.

Rick chuckles, too. It's starting to feel like old times already. "Yeah, that's probably true. Gram likes her, too, you know."

And God knows his mother has been critical of most of his life choices over the last few years. So if his mother is impressed with Kate, it says a lot.

"That's really good, Dad. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks," he exhales.

They settle into silence, both searching for the next conversation thread to tackle. Eventually his daughter hisses, cursing under her breath.

"Dad, I have to go. I'm late for work."

Disappointment settles in his belly, but he tamps it down. This is more than he could have hoped for two hours ago; this is good.

"Kay, go on. Go save the world."

"Yeah," she breathes. "I'm glad you called, though."

A smile lifts his lips. "Me too. Do you think we could talk again soon?"

"I'd like that."

Giddiness licks at the edge of his brain. "I would, too. Talk to you soon, pumpkin."

"Talk to you soon, Dad."

The call ends a split second later, leaving him beaming in his empty office.

They're going to talk again soon.

* * *

 _I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you!_


	14. Chapter 14

_Thank you all for your kind words, your patience, and for coming back to this story after such a long wait. I hope you enjoy this chapter._

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

Two days.

She hasn't left the precinct for more than about fifteen minutes in two days, and she can't see that changing just yet. It's been all hands on deck since the second body dropped and 1PP started handing down ultimatums about making headway in the case. She's been doing her best to assure the higher ups that her precinct, her team, has it under control and the FBI's "assistance" won't be necessary, but the lack of real progress hasn't exactly instilled confidence.

It doesn't help that now _she's_ under fire, too, being mocked personally by their killer for taking a walk with her boyfriend before she had even gotten the call about the case. The fact that said photo had led to the worst argument she and Rick have had since they started dating…

She'd regretted snapping at him as soon as the words were out of her mouth, and that guilt only grows, gnawing at her gut, with each passing hour that she doesn't hear from him.

It wasn't fair to blame him, even in the heat of the moment, for a killer's taunts. It wasn't fair to throw around jabs about his reputation, or imply that he's somehow damaging _hers_ because she's with him.

It was just awful, and there's nothing she can do to fix it until they get a breakthrough in this case. She can't even let her people go home to enjoy their Christmases until they're closer to finding this psycho.

So for now, all she can do is wait and hope that Castle will come back, even if it's for something as lame as to pick up the sunglasses he had left on her desk when he stormed out eighteen hours ago.

She's in the process of combing traffic cam footage – again – and checking her phone for texts – again – when her door opens on a quiet snick.

Glancing up, she finds the six foot two cause of her preoccupation in the doorway, his broad shoulders taking up nearly the entire space.

"Hey," Beckett breathes, abandoning her keyboard to round her desk and usher him into her office. "Rick, I am so sorry. I'm –"

"Stressed, I know," he interrupts, looping an arm around her waist to draw her into a tight hug, as if she hadn't been horrible to him just under a day ago. "I'm sorry, too. I kept replaying our fight in my head, and I overreacted. I jumped to conclusions, took things personally when they weren't at first."

Her head bobs against his lapel. "And I made it personal after that. I'm so sorry."

His arm tightens around her, encouraging her to wind her own arms around his waist and hang on. "You're forgiven," he rumbles.

Just like that, the band around her chest loosens. Lifting her chin, she presses a kiss to his cheek. "I'll make it up to you. Promise."

Rick's temple bumps hers. "Take a break and I'll be willing to call it even."

She hesitates. "I shouldn't, I –"

"Haven't so much as shut your eyes in over a day?"

"Well, no. But I can't. Not yet."

"Then take this and get cleaned up, if nothing else." He brandishes her gym bag from behind his back, wiggling it against their legs for emphasis.

"Castle," she sighs, slipping her arms from his waist.

"Forgiveness hangs in the balance, Beckett," he teases, stepping back to drop the duffle's handle into her palm. "Just – if you don't want take the time to shower and rest a little bit – just change your clothes and splash some water on your face. You'll feel better."

The last thing she needs is the press getting wind of Captain Beckett stopping mid-investigation to primp, but she nods anyway. Fatigue is making her slow, and the layer of grime on her skin isn't helping. Cleaning up will make her feel better.

"Okay," she agrees, lifting the strap over her shoulder.

He follows her gaze as her eyes flit back to her computer. "I'll take over for a little while. Just take a walk, relax a bit. It's just like having writer's block; you can't force results."

Pulling her lip between her teeth, she nods. He does know about overcoming blocks.

"Okay, but get the boys if you see anything out of the ordinary on the video."

Castle nods, nudging her out into the bullpen. "I will. Go; clean up, change, rest your eyes for five minutes."

His hands lift in surrender when she glares.

"No resting your eyes. Got it."

Kate nods, feeling her shoulders relax for what might be the first time since all of this began. She takes two steps toward the stairs, only to turn back to face him. "Rick?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks."

His eyes soften, and she sees his fingers flex in what she can only assume is a desire to reach for her, to join her in an attempt to help her de-stress. But he simply nods, turning back to her open doorway and disappearing into her office.

Once she's in the locker room, she gives in and steps into a nearly scalding shower. She's quick, refusing to linger, but even the few minutes under the spray is enough to loosen her tense muscles and recharge her batteries halfway. Changing into the clothes Rick had grabbed from his closet – and oh, she does have space in his home for her clothes, doesn't she? – makes all the difference.

She feels almost human again.

"So what've we got?" she asks the second her shoes touch the hardwood downstairs. Rick and the boys turn at the sound of her voice, two of the three already offering details of what they've found in the short time she was out of the room. The third holds out her mug – still steaming – and brushes his fingers over hers as she takes it.

Beckett mouths a thank you to him just before lifting the coffee to her lips.

Espo takes her silence as invitation to continue his line of thought. "Your boy made a good catch, Captain. Spotted the white panel van parking out in front of one Amos Ripley's brownstone. We're sending unis to check it out now."

"No. No, you go with them."

Any other time, she would be fine with trusting their officers to bring in a person of interest, but she can't this time. Not with the scrutiny this case is under.

"Just, with as much press as we're getting, we need to show detectives on the street, doing the leg work," she adds, casting an apologetic glance in LT's direction. He's one of the best, and she hates the idea of him thinking he doesn't have her trust, but he simply nods.

The boys do, too. "On it, boss."

"Thanks. And we'll keep looking at witness reports while you're gone." She looks to Rick, not giving him the option to go with them. It's better not to give the press anything else to work with and twist around; having her writer boyfriend tag along could give off the impression that the NYPD isn't approaching the case with the gravity it deserves.

Thankfully, Rick seems unbothered by being told to stay behind, jerking his chin toward the unused desk in the bullpen instead.

"Do you want me to work out here?"

"Ah, no, no. You can use my computer. I need to make some calls to 1PP, bring them up to speed."

He nods, heading toward her office without another word. She waits, watching him settle at her desk and make himself comfortable. She's told him a dozen times not to mess with her chair, but still he does it, reaching for the lever to change the seat to his desired height.

Even as annoyance flares, affection blooms in her chest. He's a pain in the ass, but he's hers, isn't he? And he had given her more peace than she deserves today, after she bit his head off. Now it's her turn to give back to him. If that's even possible.

Spinning on her heel, she moves to the vending machine in the hall to survey her options. She doesn't have much change on her, but she has enough to get him something. It feels a little silly, and a lot juvenile, to bring her boyfriend a snack as a present, but it's all she can do right now.

Rick looks up when she returns, offering without words to vacate her chair.

"No, you're okay. Besides, I know you were fiddling again," she murmurs, waving him off for the time being. "But I brought you these. I know you like them."

Castle's lips curve into a soft smile. "Thanks, Kate."

"You were right," she admits, tapping her knuckles against her desk. "I needed the shower, and the break, and the coffee, and I'm… I'm sorry again that I took everything out on you."

He catches her fingers, tugging her between his knees.

"It's okay. I do understand, you know."

Licking her lips, she nods. "But I still don't want to do that. So, this is part one of making this up to you."

His thumb slides over hers, gentle, calming strokes that have her releasing a breath.

"Come home with me after this case," he murmurs.

Her breath seizes in her chest. Even after spending Thanksgiving together, they hadn't talked about Christmas.

"I – it'll probably be Christmas, you know. Or Christmas Eve. I can't see us wrapping this up in the next twenty four hours."

One of his shoulders lifts. "So?"

"I know Alexis is working, but don't you have plans with your mom?"

He shakes his head, and she watches him hide the flash of sadness. He misses his daughter, and the traditions they had had when she was little. "Mother has two shows. We're having dinner late on Christmas Day instead of our usual Christmas Eve, but other than that, it's just a day to relax."

"Oh," she breathes.

"And besides," he continues, brushing the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. "There are worse people to spend a day with." His lips quirk, giving the tease away.

"Thanks," she drawls, leaning her hip against her desk, dragging her teeth over her lower lip. He really wants to spend Christmas with her. "Well, I did kind of get you something. So I guess I can give it to you then. If you don't mind stopping by my place after we leave here."

Castle lights up. "You did? But I – I thought we said no gifts?"

Beckett arches an eyebrow. "Are you telling me you didn't get me something?"

"Well," he murmurs, looking down at their joined hands. "Maybe I did get you something, too."

"Uh huh. See, I had a feeling."

"It's not big, though. You said you didn't want that."

Squeezing his hand, she grins. "He can be taught."

"Yes, yes he can be," he says, dipping his head once more. She watches his brow furrow as he skims the open file on her desk. "And he also thinks he has a lead for you."

Oh, she could kiss him.

* * *

It's eleven forty-nine pm on Christmas Eve when they finally trudge through his front door. Her limbs ache in a way they haven't in years, possibly since she started at the academy and put herself through hours of grueling workouts to make sure she made it to the top of her class.

Beside her, Rick looks dead on his feet as well, reminding her that he's been awake almost as long as she has, standing at her side while this case kicked their asses.

"Hungry?" she asks, rubbing a hand down his arm as he shuts the door behind them.

"I could eat." His yawn tells another story, and she gives his bicep a quick squeeze.

"Go change, I'll make us something small. Just so your stomach doesn't wake me at three am."

"Hah hah." Still, he heeds her advice, taking the bag with another change of clothes and his gift from her shoulder and dropping a kiss on her cheek. "If any part of me is going to wake you at three am, it won't be my stomach."

Kate sways into him. "Promises, promises."

He grins, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. "Make us some food and we'll see about that."

"Kay. Go. I'll see what I can find."

She watches him disappear into his bedroom before she steps into his kitchen to raid the fridge for their midnight snack. Though he has deli meat in the drawer, she opts to grab the cheese, tomato, and bacon and make loaded grilled cheese sandwiches instead. Assembling the sandwiches doesn't take long, and once the first one is in the pan, she gives into the urge to slump against the counter and let her eyes drift shut.

He doesn't speak when he returns, instead she knows he's nearing by the quiet slap of his against the hardwood. Finally, she lifts her head, finding everything bathed in the warm glow of a modest Christmas display.

It's gorgeous. Far more sedate than she would've expected from him, but gorgeous.

"Want wine?" he rumbles, rounding the peninsula to drop a kiss on her shoulder. She nods, reaching for the spatula and flipping one of the sandwiches.

Oops. The bread looks a little bit dark, but it's salvageable. That's what she gets for breaking concentration while she cooks.

A glass of red wine appears at her elbow. Her fingers curl around the stem as Rick nudges her out of the way.

"Go get comfortable. I'll finish these and bring them in."

Shaking her head, Kate doesn't relinquish the spatula.

"I don't want to eat in bed. It'll end up everywhere."

Rick shrugs. "We'll eat on the floor then. A picnic on the carpet in the sitting area. But either way, you're still wearing your coat, Kate. And your shoes. Relax and stay a while."

Glancing down at her clothes, it occurs to her that he's right.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. I'll take this off and then we can eat."

He nods, wiggling the cooking utensil out of her hand.

"Yes, please do take your clothes off."

Beckett snorts, swaying a bit as she steps away from the cooktop. At this point, she's not even sure she'll be able to stay awake long enough to eat. But she'll try. She insisted they eat; she has to try to stay awake.

Her outerwear comes off in the middle of the living room, and she makes a beeline for one of Rick's discarded sweaters as soon as she steps foot in the bedroom. It's warm enough in the loft that she won't need a layer underneath the soft cashmere, and if they're just going to fall into bed once their meal is finished, she won't bother with pants either.

It's not like anyone's going to see her. Plus, Castle _loves_ her legs.

Her bones creak as she settles on the blanket she finds in his linen closet, but the sweet relief of sitting trumps the mortifying thought that she's getting old.

"Kay, so I gave myself the crispier one, unless you want it. And I brought your wine, too. You left it on the counter."

"Thanks," she says, watching his eyes darken as they trail from her toes to where her skin disappears beneath the hem of his sweater. Yes, wearing his clothes was a good idea. "And you don't have to take the one I burned because I was zoning out, Rick."

"What if I like it a little crunchy?"

"Do you?" she challenges, taking the plates and her wine glass from him.

"Well… not really, no."

"Okay, then. Crunchy one's mine. Get your wine and let's eat."

He grins, murmuring a confirmation and stealing a kiss before darting through his bedroom door once more.

Her stomach rumbles in anticipation. Their dinner really does smell good.

She waits to take her first bite until he's settled on the carpet beside her, his fingers fluttering over her knee as he shifts into a comfortable position. Even though her sandwich is a little overdone, flavor still explodes on her tongue, drawing a groan from her lips.

His fingers tighten on her leg, but he rumbles his agreement.

"This was a good idea."

Beckett nods, reaching for her wine. "Glad I thought of it."

He mock gasps. " _You_ thought of it?"

"Uh huh," she says, grinning against the rim of her glass. "I suggested food."

"But I was the one who suggested a picnic."

She lifts an eyebrow. "But why would we have a foodless picnic?"

Rick's mouth opens and closes a few times before he huffs. "Touché."

A laugh bubbles in her throat, spilling from her lips and into the quiet loft.

"Glad you see it my way," she says. Pitching sideways, she dusts a kiss over his jaw. "It's good, no matter who suggested it."

He nods, his chest expanding with a hint of pride, and Kate can't help but kiss him again.

"Thanks for asking me to come home with you," she whispers when they part, draping her bare legs over his lap.

She used to want to be alone after cases like the one they just wrapped, but being here, being with him is so much better than nursing a drink alone on her couch.

Plus, there's something kind of romantic about a picnic on the floor in their pajamas at midnight. On Christmas, no less. The first Christmas she's allowed herself to have in many years.

If he's surprised by her gratitude, he hides it well. Instead, his hand smooths over her shin, drifting along her thigh only to return to safe territory seconds later.

"Thanks for agreeing to come home with me."

Kate hums, dropping her head onto his shoulder and lifting the rest of her sandwich to her lips. His thumb makes absent circles on her kneecap as he does the same.

Her body sags with every hypnotic stroke. God, she's tired.

"Presents when we wake up?" she asks a few minutes later, lifting her eyes to meet his.

Delight flickers across his face, only to be swallowed by a yawn. "Absolutely."

"Good. Cause you're going to want to be awake for what I got you."

"What is it?"

She grins, lifting her wine to her lips before leaning in to kiss him, to share the taste of the merlot with him.

"You'll see."

He spends the rest of their meal and the time it takes for them to clean up and fall into bed trying to wheedle hints out of her.

She doesn't crack. Not even when he nuzzles her neck and whispers sweet nothings against her skin as they doze off.

* * *

Their Christmas morning can only be described as lazy.

They wake from a deep, dreamless sleep, reaching for each other without a word or a thought to leaving the bed, taking turns pressing one another into the mattress and decorating the air with their breathless moans. Eventually they shower together, but he slips out of the bathroom to make coffee and prepare a plate of fruit for them to nibble while she finishes combing her hair and shimmies into the shirt she had stolen from him and a pair of her own leggings.

She grabs his gift on her way out of his bedroom, stopping in her tracks when she spies him placing far more than just a plate of fruit onto the table in front of the tree.

"Rick," she breathes. "This is, wow."

Her boyfriend's head lifts, his smile wide, sparkling in a way that has nothing to do with the Christmas lights.

"You like it?" he asks, offering her a steaming mug of peppermint-scented coffee. Her lips curl even higher; he's drawn a Christmas tree in the foam and everything.

"How did you do all this? I didn't take _that_ long on my hair."

He chuckles, taking a sip of his own coffee before gesturing for her to sit. "In the interest of complete honesty: I cheated a little bit. They're pre-made waffles. I just heated them up and added a little powdered sugar and some whipped cream and syrup. I'll make you my famous Belgian waffles another time, if you want."

Cupping his cheek, she presses her lips to his. "I want."

Castle grins, palming her hip. "Perfect. Now, wanna do presents?"

Joy tugs at her chest. She does want to do presents. She really, really does.

"You first," she insists, pushing his gift into his belly.

He's engrossed in the book of brain teaser puzzles she had given him while she reads the novel (first edition first printing, signed _and_ numbered; nothing big, her ass) he had pressed into her hands when his mother comes bustling into the loft.

"Hello, hello, hello. Merry Christmas, darling – oh, darlings. It's so good to see you, Kate."

Lowering the book, Beckett smiles. "Merry Christmas, Martha. How was your show last night?"

She won't ask what – or who – had the older woman out all night. She _really_ does not want to know that much about Martha Rodgers.

"Magnificent. Simply magnificent. And I take it your case is wrapped?"

Rick's mother drops her bag by the couch, leaning over to press a warm kiss to Kate's cheek before ruffling her son's hair.

Beckett nods, nudging her toe into Rick's thigh until his eyes leave the puzzle.

"Wha?" He blinks, focusing his gaze on them. "Oh, Mother. When did you get home? Is it dinner time already?"

Kate gives his neck an affectionate squeeze, jumping in before his mother can. "It's only one, Rick. Sorry, Martha. I gave him his gift and haven't heard a word from him in over an hour."

Martha laughs, light and airy.

"We wrapped the case late last night. Thanks to this one." She nods in Castle's direction, watching pride light his mother's eyes. Rick misses it, but Kate tucks the knowledge away, keeping it close to her chest for the next time the man at her side needs reassurance of his importance to the people in his life.

"Wonderful. And I think we have earned a bit of a celebration, don't you?"

"Don't you always?" Rick drawls, dropping his head against the back of the couch, chuckling when his mother swats at him.

"Hush, Richard. I'm making mimosas."

"Of course you are."

"I'll help," Kate volunteers, getting to her feet. Martha smiles, giving her a gentle, pleased nod and extricating her hand from her son's grip.

"Wonderful. Come, come."

"I hope you don't mind me being here," she starts a moment later, reaching for the champagne flutes while Martha digs for the champagne.

"Nonsense, the more the merrier, Kate. The more the merrier. And frankly, I am _so_ pleased that you are the more in that statement."

Her cheeks flush. "Me, too. And don't take this the wrong way, but Rick said you have another show today?"

Mirth fills the other woman's eyes, but the tease Kate expects never comes. "Call is at two-thirty, but I decided to give my understudy a moment to shine."

Kate smiles, nodding.

"After all, Christmas is a day for family."

The statement is innocent enough, but still her stomach drops as she thinks of her father sitting alone on the porch at his cabin. He's gone every year since she was a rookie cop, but standing in the warmth of Rick Castle's kitchen on Christmas Day, she misses him more than she ever has.

"Yeah," she murmurs, vowing to call her father in a little while. "Yeah, it is."

"Now, what have the two of you been up to today? Enjoying the Christmas cheer, I hope."

A blush stains her cheeks as she remembers exactly how _cheerful_ Rick has been all day.

"Ah, not much," she manages finally. "We got in late last night, so we slept in and then did presents. It seems neither of us managed to follow the rules this time around."

It comes out nonchalant, but Martha isn't fooled. The older woman's cheeks lift in a grin Kate sees all too often from Castle himself.

"Well, that sounds lovely for your first Christmas together. And I hope you won't mind another gift or two?"

"I – oh, Martha, you didn't need to get me anything."

Never mind that there is a gift under the tree for Rick's mother, too.

Martha waves her off. "Nonsense. It's Christmas, darling."

"Still… thank you," she laughs, lifting two of the champagne flutes. "Would you like to tear Rick away from the book and open them now? Then we can see about moving up the dinner Rick was telling me about?"

Martha grins. "Perfect. Richard, we're doing presents," she singsongs as they saunter back into the living room.

Castle's head lifts, but it's obvious he's not really hearing them. "Hmm?"

Rolling her eyes, Kate offers him one of the drinks in her hand, encouraging him to drop the book.

"Presents, Castle. The gift you bought your mom?"

His eyes widen in comprehension. "Right."

He bounces up, pressing a kiss to the corner of Kate's mouth before diving under the tree for his mother's present.

"Mother, you are going to love this."

A little while later, Martha calls in a favor to have Christmas lunch delivered. It isn't the feast Kate grew up with, but as the three of them sit at the table, laughing between bites, it's fantastic.

Even better is the peace between mother and son. Thanksgiving had been a step in the right direction, but the easiness between them today is on another level. And Rick's happy, there's no doubt about that. She can tell as much simply from watching the relaxed line of his shoulders.

She jumps at the touch of his hand, the curl of his fingers around hers. Sometime during her musings, Martha has left the table, leaving the two of them alone.

"You okay?" he asks, lifting her hand to his lips.

"Yeah. Kinda spaced out listening to you guys, though. Sorry."

Rick grins. "Kay. Mother suggested watching the _It's A Wonderful Life_ marathon. Wanna do that?"

Thumbing his lower lip, she nods. "Sure. I'm open. But I need to make a call first, okay?"

"Kay," he agrees, lowering his chin and leaning in closer. "And then maybe later, we can have another kind of marathon that makes life wonderful?"

Snorting, Kate tugs her hand free from his grasp, getting to her feet. "Take your plate into the kitchen, Rick."

"That's not a no, you know," he says to her back, squirming out of his chair to follow her.

She smirks, feeling him bump past her as she loads the dishwasher. "Mmm, I know."

* * *

 _Again, thank you all for your patience, and thank you for sticking with me and this story._


	15. Chapter 15

_I cannot begin to express my apologies for making you all wait so long for this chapter. As such, I'm just going to stop talking and let you all read. I hope you enjoy this._

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

"What about this one?"

Turning, Kate finds her friend holding up what has to be the gaudiest cocktail dress she has ever seen in her life. That thing is _hideous_.

"Tell me you're not serious," she begs, channeling her horror into a beseeching look. "We're supposed to be friends."

Lanie laughs, shoving the monstrosity of orange and purple sequins and rhinestones back onto the rack and pushing it far, far away. "Just wanted to see if you were awake, Kate. You've been over there flipping through the same ten dresses for the last five minutes."

"Sorry," she murmurs, abandoning said dresses and moving on. "Just thinking."

Her best friend tilts her head. "About shopping, or about the man I know I dragged you away from this morning?"

She shakes her head. "He was still dead to the world when I got out of bed. No dragging necessary."

Okay, maybe a little dragging, but she won't admit that. Rick had been passed out when her alarm went off, but the weight of his arm around her waist and his warmth at her back had nearly lulled her to sleep once more.

"Wore him out, huh?"

Her tongue pokes between her teeth. "Maybe."

Lanie's dark eyes roll. "Fine, be coy. The glow you have is answer enough."

"What?" she sputters. "Lanie, no. I'm not –"

"Your sex glow," her friend amends. "Not that kind of glow. But that sex glow of yours? Hooboy."

Well, she can give her that. "It was a good night, I'll admit."

A romantic dinner out, a candlelit bath, making love until they fell asleep; it _had_ been a good night.

"Uh huh. You gonna tell me about it?"

One eyebrow lifts. "You really wanna know the details?"

Lanie looks her over. "Well, I think I can guess about a few things. But I'll wait for you to spill the rest."

"What a sacrifice," Kate teases, tugging a dress off the rack and draping it over her arm. "Why don't we focus on finding me something to wear and then we'll see."

"Deal. Put this one on your pile to try," Lanie orders, handing her a deep green, slinky number. "Tell me about the party again? Semi-formal?"

"Mhmm, that's what Rick said." She thumbs through the rest of the dresses in front of her before moving to the next rack. "It's not an official Black Pawn event – none of the big wigs will be there – but it's still his first party since he announced the new book."

Lanie hums, letting her know she's listening even though they're not facing each other. "So this dress needs to wow."

"Well, I mean I want to look good, but it's not like it's the Oscars or something."

"Of course not, but it doesn't stop you from finding something that will make your man's eyes pop out of their sockets as soon as he sees you. Don't pretend you don't love doing that to him."

Her lips quirk. "Well, there is that."

Getting a rise out of him is always fun.

"I know. So we will make sure you're dressed to the nines for this party. End of discussion."

"Uh huh." Kate lowers her chin, taking a second to remind herself that it's _not_ the spectacle Lanie's making it out to be – it's going to be a nice evening out with her boyfriend, not a three ring circus.

Lanie clucks her tongue. "Okay, I know that face – you're worrying about something. What is it?"

Shaking her head, she thumbs through another rack of dresses. "I'm not. I'm fine, Lanie."

"Uh huh. It's no different than rubbing elbows with the NYPD brass, and you've been great at that for years. Just talk books instead of handcuffs."

"No, I know. It just doesn't feel the same right now. At least with the brass, I know where I stand. They know me."

"Ah, and here they don't."

"Yeah. And it's Castle's scene, so it shouldn't matter. But it does. I don't want to do the _wrong_ thing, but I'm not just going to stand there and smile, or act like one of the bimbos he used to bring to these things."

Her friend shakes her head. "You be you. He didn't invite you because he wanted silent arm candy, Kate. He wanted to be there with you."

Sucking in a deep breath, Beckett nods. "Right. You're right."

"Of course I am. I've been right about you two all along. And you know if you would just listen to me from the start, you wouldn't have to worry at all."

Always modest, her Lanie.

"So just relax," the other woman continues, waving her hand around the store, "find a dress to wow, and focus on the fact that you're going to start a new year kissing that man."

Now that she can picture: the twinkle of the city lights below, the murmur of the party around them, the wall of Rick's chest at her back as the clock counts down from ten…

"Yeah," Kate breathes. "That's… yeah. You're right; I'm being silly."

"Yeah you are. Now hush and add this to your pile." Lanie thrusts another dress in her direction. "Pick two more, then go try on what you have."

"Why just two?"

"Because more than that and you'll be overwhelmed. This is easier, trust me."

"Yes, shopping guru, I defer to you."

"As you should. Oh, what about that red one by your elbow?"

Her eyes sweep over the rack, lifting the scarlet one-shouldered cocktail dress and holding it up to her chest. "This one?"

She already likes it, but she can't help but wonder if it will be too informal for the occasion.

Lanie nods, turning her by the shoulders and ushering her toward the changing room.

"Okay, while you try those, I am going to get us mimosas."

"Finally," Kate groans, dropping a teasing grin over her shoulder.

"Oh, don't _finally_ me. I dragged my butt out of a warm bed for this, too."

"Oh yeah?" she challenges, nodding to the tray of drinks waiting for them to indulge. "Whose bed? _Javi's_?"

Lanie swats at her, lifting two glasses. "Nobody's. My own."

"And did there happen to be a man in it as well?"

Her friend's eyes narrow. "Shut up."

Impulsively, Kate grabs a dress in Lanie's size from one of the discard racks, nudging it in her direction. "Try this on. You'll need it for whatever crazy New Year's Eve plans you have."

"What if I don't have plans?"

Beckett scoffs. "Then I'll eat this dress. Do you have plans?"

"Are you kidding me, Kate Beckett? Of course I have plans. It's _New Year's_."

"Right, so try on the dress. If I'm getting one, you should, too."

Her friend huffs, taking the sequined fabric out of her hand.

"This trip is supposed to be for you; I have date-appropriate dresses already," she reminds her, but the reproach lacks bite. "But since it's nice, I'll give it a try."

Beckett rolls her eyes. "Thanks for making that sacrifice, Lane."

They share a grin; as much as they've both been bemoaning their early start, shopping together is fun. It's been far too long since they've just had some girl time.

Maybe that will be part of her New Year's resolution – more time with Lanie. More time with the boys outside of the precinct, and more time with her best female friend.

Kate ducks into the first open changing room, dropping the dresses onto the bench and darting back out in time to capture Lanie in a loose sideways hug. Lanie laughs, but doesn't argue with the affection.

"What was that for?" she asks when Kate releases her.

Beckett shrugs. "Nothing. Just glad you came with me this morning."

Lanie's face softens into an easy smile, affection spilling from her eyes. "Me too. Now, take your mimosa, get your butt in there, and pick a dress. We still have shoes and accessories to buy once we're done here."

"Of course we do." There's the taskmaster again.

"You're telling me you don't want to buy new shoes?"

She heaves a sigh, winking in her friend's direction anyway. "Maybe I should've stayed in bed. Less exercise that way."

"Don't let Writer Boy hear that. It'll bruise his ego."

Laughter bubbles from her lips. "Oh god, that's _not_ what I meant. I just meant –"

"Kate? Try on the dresses. Save your after-party plans for after the party."

"Hush," she retorts, stepping back into her fitting room. "My after-party plans are far more aerobic than shopping, I'll have you know."

Lanie's "Good!" echoes through the changing area.

It's not a lie, either. She may not have admitted it to anyone but herself, but she isn't expecting to see much more than the inside of the loft for the majority of the first day – maybe the first two days – of January.

And, if she wears the stunning red dress with the single flutter sleeve she slips over her head after four other disappointing options go into the 'no' pile, she's more than sure that Rick won't be complaining about the lack of scenery.

Hell, this dress might end up on the floor of a hotel room, just to save time and spare some poor cab driver the free show they might give him.

"Hey Lane?" she calls, twirling in front of the mirror. "I found it."

She had worried it might be too casual for the occasion, but it's not. It's gorgeous. The skirt is fitted, more pencil than A-line, but the gathered ruffle keeps it from looking too severe. With the right accessories, the right hair, everything will fall into place.

Her boyfriend is going to _love_ this dress.

* * *

He does. So much so that they're late to the party (though he insists there's no such thing as late when late is considered on time). She can't bring herself to be upset, though, not with the memory of the astonished, hungry look in his eyes lingering long after they've pulled themselves together and traipsed down her building's stairs to slide into the backseat of the town car he'd insisted upon taking.

Still, she ribs him a little bit. It's too fun not to.

"If everyone stares when we walk in, I'm blaming you," she says, skimming her index finger over her lower lip to check for excess lipstick.

Beside her, Rick chuckles, slipping his hand over her knee. She had given up on finding a new pair of pantyhose after his overzealous, eager hands had turned the ones she'd been wearing into a mess, so his fingers touch nothing but bare skin now.

"They're going to stare, Kate," he says, swiping his thumb over her knee. "Hell, I can't stop staring and I've taken this dress off of you once already." His lips touch the corner of her mouth, gentle but tantalizing at the same time. "You're beautiful."

It isn't the first time he's said it tonight, not even the first time he's rumbled it low against her skin, but her cheeks flame regardless.

"Thanks. You cleaned up alright, I guess." Her fingers slip over his lapel, tugging him closer at his gasp of mock-outrage.

"Invite you to a fancy party and this is the thanks I get?"

"Poor thing. You just can't win when you're with me, can you?"

Abandoning her knee, his palm slips up her arm, fingers curling at the base of her neck. He drags her into another kiss, opening to her without hesitation. Kate groans, sinking into the wall of his chest, pressing her hand over the steady thump of his heart to brace herself. Or hang on. Maybe both.

"Well," he breathes against her lips. "I won't say I don't win. Feeling pretty victorious right about now."

Rolling her eyes, Kate shifts back into her seat. "Of course you do."

"And," he continues, tripping his fingertips down her arm to claim her hand as the town car rolls to a stop, "think of how triumphant we'll both feel when we're on our way home in a few hours to start the new year right."

"Mmm, that's true. Falling into a soft bed and a getting a good night's sleep will feel amazing," she teases, sliding out behind him, giving her thanks to the driver for holding the door for them.

Beside her, Rick huffs, but he doesn't have a response. Instead, his fingers twitch in her grasp, his shoulders rising with his inhale.

"You okay?" she murmurs once they're moving upward to the penthouse.

"Hmm?" he asks, licking his lips. He's been quiet since greeting the elevator attendant and stepping into the mirror-walled box. "Yeah, yeah. I'm okay."

Well that's far from convincing, but she gets it; he's a little nervous, too.

Lifting onto her toes, she paints her lips across his cheek.

"Wanna hit the emergency stop?"

That shakes him out of his stupor, and he turns a cheerful grin on her. "Why Captain Beckett, are you suggesting getting frisky in this elevator?"

"Maybe. You game?" She wiggles her eyebrows, pressing into his side.

He doesn't have the opportunity to answer before the car glides to a stop and the doors peel back to reveal a humming party.

"Damn," Castle sighs, splaying his fingers at the small of her back, tugging at the belt of her coat.

"Too bad. Could've been fun," she drawls, stepping into the chaos and reaching back for his hand.

"Well, we could always try again after this is over."

Kate laughs, tossing a lazy grin over her shoulder. "Mmm, we'll see about that."

He squeezes her fingers, turning his attention to the scene in front of them, bellowing as soon as he sees someone he knows.

Let the party begin.

* * *

Two hours later, it becomes obvious that something is up. Rick's laughter is too loud, his smile tight around the edges, and though he hasn't moved from her side more than a few times since they arrived, it's like he's miles away. He's not himself, that much is for sure.

Eventually his forced laughter trails off and the couple they've been talking to (though 'at' might be a better way to describe the conversation) glides away. Kate seizes the opportunity to snag her boyfriend's elbow and invade his space.

"What's going on, Rick?"

His brow furrows, but the fake smile remains plastered across his lips. "What? Nothing. Everything's great. Are you having fun?"

Her fingers trip down his arm, curling around his hand. "I am." And she is, for the most part. "Are you?"

His agreement comes a tad too quickly, far too emphatic to be genuine. He may look the part with his charming smile and bright eyes, and he may be acting the part with quick jokes and eagerness to jump from conversation to conversation, but he's not having fun. Not the way he should be.

She takes advantage of the heels she wears to touch her mouth to his.

"Having a better time now?"

Rick hums. "Well I wasn't having a bad time before, but just to be sure, I need another one of those."

"Liar," she teases, but gives his mouth another delicate press. "You need to relax."

He laughs, and it seems to come a little more easily this time, curling his arm around her waist. "That's usually my line."

"And yet _I_ am the one delivering it tonight. You look like you're either about to bolt or do something crazy."

His eyes narrow, letting her know she has him.

"Trained investigator, Rick. Come on, let's get out of the middle of the room and go somewhere we can talk."

The mask slips back into place before she even finishes the suggestion. "Kate, I'm fine. Everything is good. After all, this is a _great_ party," he says, louder than necessary.

Beckett feels herself scowl. It's not funny anymore. It's not cute. It's not –

"Glad to hear it, Richie."

It's not for her benefit, she realizes, watching their host step beside her, a pleasant smile on his face.

"And may I say, your date is exquisite tonight."

"How kind of you, Bill," Rick answers before she has the chance to accept the compliment, smarmy as it is. He ignores the look she sends his way, too, tightening his arm around her waist and offering up his empty publicity smile.

But no, he's fine. Nothing wrong at all.

And then their host opens his mouth again to launch into some spiel about one of his _many_ successful investments, and everything clicks into place.

It's not her boyfriend, it's the room; the game he has to play.

Well, she can play the game too. Slipping her hand across the back of Rick's neck, Kate presses her mouth to his cheek.

"Get you some food?" she offers, not remorseful in the least about interrupting the other man. His money hasn't bought him a personality yet, so she's fairly certain his newest venture won't either.

Rick's fingers curl against her hip.

"Sure honey," he says, mischief dancing in his eyes at the prospect of getting away with a nickname. "I'll help, though. No sense in making you carry it all."

His palm warms her back as he excuses them both from the conversation.

"Thank you," he murmurs a few minutes later, holding her plate for her while she decides between steak skewers and chicken.

"For what?" she asks, glancing over to find him looking more like himself.

"Getting us out of that? Putting up with it in general? Putting up with me tonight? As soon as you said something, I realized I'd –"

Licking her lips, she opts to keep things light as she lets him off the hook. "Well it's easy now that you don't sound like Thurston Howell the Third. I was having flashbacks to the night we met."

He winces. "That bad?"

"Well, you didn't try to pick up another girl for sex, so you're still coming out ahead."

"Not exactly a ringing endorsement, Kate."

Stepping closer, she knocks a kiss against his jaw. "You've reformed. And it's easy to get caught up in this craziness; it's a total dog and pony show."

He exhales, dipping his head to find her mouth. "Still, I am sorry about it."

Her hand lifts, fingers brushing his cheek. "It's okay. Just… you don't have to prove anything to these people. Or to me. So just be you. The regular you."

Castle nods, bumping their foreheads together. "Kay."

She smiles. "Kay. Now make a decision for me, please? So we can get away from this spread."

He shrugs. "Get both. It won't go to waste."

Kate laughs, nodding. "Okay, okay."

He is right; nothing will go uneaten, not as ravenous as she is right now.

"But you know," he starts as they move down the buffet line, "I seem to remember you being just a _tad_ inappropriate the night we met, too."

Scoffing, she gives him a sideways look. "How?"

"Your wandering eyes?"

Her cheeks flush. Okay, she had checked him out a couple times that night, but that had been before he'd been a complete tool.

Mostly.

"Not the point, Mr. Castle."

His smile widens. "Did that, too."

"What?"

"It was 'Mr. Castle' this, and 'Mr. Castle' that. You know, keeping your distance so you didn't have to admit how badly you wanted me."

"Shut up."

Rick's mouth brushes her cheek. "I'm glad you turned me down, Kate. All twenty times I asked."

"Yeah?" She takes her plate and her wine from him. "Why?"

Beside her, Rick nods. "Because it brought us here."

It's a simple answer, sweet, and her chest expands with it.

"And tonight," he continues, low against her ear, "you're coming home with me."

She shivers.

* * *

They get pulled in separate directions after they finish eating, but thankfully the company is better this time around. She ends up drawn into a conversation about the merits of teaching contemporary fiction in place of "the classics" in schools, and from what she can hear, Rick is apparently detailing his newfound knowledge of police procedure.

As the debate rages on, she catches herself drifting instead of listening, her eyes seeking out her boyfriend's broad frame. Between work and spending the holidays with him, she's grown used to having him nearby, knowing he might slip his arm around her at any second during non-working hours.

It's a little bit pathetic to miss him when he's in the same room, but she does.

"I'm sorry," she interrupts finally, offering a contrite smile. "I just looked at the clock; I should find Castle before it gets too much later."

Alex Conrad smiles. "Of course."

"This was an intriguing talk, though," she adds, holding out her hand to shake his.

"It was. Thank you, Captain Beckett."

Rolling her eyes, she reminds him to call her Kate. "I am off duty, Alex. Kate is more than fine."

His smile is sheepish. "Right. Sorry."

"Enjoy the rest of the party."

"You, too. Oh, before you go… and I hate asking this, but would you mind asking Mr. Castle about my book? I know he's just getting back into the swing of things, but he's one of the best – his work is so good, even his first few novels – and it would be an honor to have him give me an honest review."

Beckett nods. "I'll ask him. Minus the parts that will make his ego triple in size, of course, but I'll ask."

The younger man grins. "Perfect, thank you."

She smiles in return, giving him a nod as she steps toward Castle's back.

"Hey," he greets when she bumps into his side. Yeah, he looks much more comfortable, much more himself, than he had earlier.

"Hey yourself. Are you done embellishing everything my detectives have taught you?"

He snorts. "I'm merely telling the truth, Beckett. Though, now I have moved on to the way you took that guy apart in interrogation the other day."

She shakes her head. "I did not."

"She's being modest," he insists, turning to his fellow authors. "It was amazing. She walked in with this look on her face, sat down, didn't say a word, and the guy folded like a cheap suit."

She denies that, too, shaking her head.

"It went something like that," Castle promises, thumbing her side. "They're all fantastic at the Twelfth, but Captain Beckett is extraordinary at what she does."

Heat floods her cheeks, but she doesn't shy away from the praise, not completely.

"It really is a team effort," she offers. "And Castle here is proving to be a helpful, albeit interesting, addition to it."

Her boyfriend puffs up beside her, preening at the compliment. Kate knows he would plant one on her if they weren't standing in front of his peers.

Oh, what the hell? It's New Year's and she's made him happy. There's no need to make excuses or to blame the wine for the kiss she gives him.

Rick clears his throat when she pulls away. "Well, I'm always happy to lend my assistance to the city I love."

Her lips quirk. "Sure, buddy."

"The mayor's thinking of giving me a medal, you know. He told me at poker before Christmas."

She snorts, offering the other men a quick smile. "You sure he wasn't bluffing to try to get you to bet more?"

Rick lifts a shoulder. "Well, maybe. But I like to think he'll give me one at some point. For my eventual bravery and heroics."

The others chuckle. "Maybe your modesty, too, Rick."

"Of course."

Beckett licks her lips, smothering another smile. "Speaking of modesty, what do you think about grabbing some champagne and finding somewhere a little more private to wait for midnight?"

He agrees with a quick nod of his head. "Gentlemen, it's been good talking to you, but I think it's time for me to be going. Enjoy the rest of your night."

She leads him out of the main room, stopping only to lift two champagne flutes from the first tray they find.

His mouth is on hers long before the clock strikes twelve, but there's no other way she would choose to greet a new year.

* * *

 _A/N: I appreciate all of your wonderful comments, your gentle nudges and reminders that people are still out there and were anticipating this story's return. Thank you all for being so patient and so kind with me._


	16. Chapter 16

**Our Best Selves - Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

He's moping.

He knows he is, knows he shouldn't be, but this is just unfair. He used to be the king of gift giving, a regular present ninja, but this stupid budget is totally cramping his style.

He had done okay at Christmas (and Kate's birthday, too), but it is _Valentine's Day_. It's supposed to be romantic. It's supposed to be somewhat over the top.

Instead, he'll be lucky if he manages to give her a box of chocolates and a card.

"Okay, kiddo, what's going on? You're supposedly writing, which is why you aren't with Kate at the precinct, but I gotta tell you, I'm not hearing much in the way of keyboard clicking."

It's not a dig, he knows. Since the holidays, his relationship with his mother has improved tenfold. Her teases have become teases once more, not jabs, and his return volleys are no longer caustic barbs. But that doesn't mean he's going to tell her what's going on, why he's upset. Not when it's his own mess to work out.

Of course, his conviction doesn't really matter, because his mother rounds his desk to look over his shoulder at his laptop.

Hmm, boundaries should probably be the next thing they tackle.

"This is what you're fussing over, Richard?"

"It's a big deal," he defends, crossing his arms over his chest. "After her birthday and Christmas went so well, I want to make sure I don't disappoint."

His mother's head tilts. "You've been with this woman for the better part of a year, surely you know what she'll like."

"Of course I do," he mutters, glancing at the computer screen once more. "But that's not the issue."

He's grateful that his mother catches on before he has to suck it up and sound like a fourteen-year-old boy.

"Ah. Your budget doesn't match your aspirations."

Heaving a sigh, he nods. "I'm still on a non-essential item spending freeze. And while this," he pauses to gesture to the 18 karat gold skull bracelet on the screen, "is perfect for Kate, I have a feeling it's also exactly what Jason considers to be a non-essential item."

"Well…" his mother trails off, shifting from foot to foot. "Would you like me to loan you the–"

His head thrashes. "Please no. That makes me feel like I'm a teenager again. It's embarrassing."

"Well, honey, if you want to get that girl this bracelet, then you need to–"

"Thank you, Mother. I appreciate it, I do. But I can't borrow money from my mom to buy my girlfriend a present."

She sighs. "So instead you're going to sulk?"

"And brainstorm another gift," he defends. "Which is what I'm doing."

"In that case, how 'bout a show? I'd say you know a gal who can get you discount tickets to a _fantastic_ performance." She nudges him with her elbow, giving him an exaggerated wink.

"Is that a gift for my girlfriend, or for you?" he drawls, lifting an eyebrow.

His mother huffs, swatting at his shoulder. "I'm offering suggestions, darling. And for the record, I never said it had to be _my_ performance."

"It's just strongly encouraged?" he quips, dodging another swipe from her.

"Don't be surly, Richard. I'm just trying to help."

He sighs. "I'm sorry, Mother. I do appreciate it. I just wish there was a solution."

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic. Do you think the only gift you can give a woman requires money?"

"Eww, Mother."

She rolls her eyes. "That is not what I meant, and you know it. Though…"

"Do not finish that thought, I beg you."

"Give her something from the heart. That's all I'm trying to say. After all, your relationship is about far more than your wallet, isn't it?"

Well, his mother does have a point there. Things with Kate are amazing, regardless of how much he spends on gifts.

"Or if you're married to the idea of something material," his mother adds, "you could always hock something pricey to make the money."

Rick blinks. "Sell my stuff?"

"Well not all of it. But if you have something you have no use for and you know it would fetch a pretty penny, why not?"

His brow furrows at the thought. "That's… kind of drastic, don't you think? Selling things? That's what the budget is supposed to keep me from having to do."

"I'm just throwing ideas out there. Don't get upset with me."

Upset? He's not getting upset. He's just not sure he's ready to look around the home that's finally starting to feel like his again and choose something to sell.

"No, I know. I'm not. I'll think about it. That's… I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask. Now, why don't you forget about all this for now and go see your love at work? Take her flowers and lunch."

He doesn't pout. He doesn't. (He pouts a little bit.)

"I can't. She texted me an hour ago to say she'd been dragged into meetings."

"And the detectives you shadow?"

His head shakes. "Mandatory computer training sessions. Esposito tried to tell me they were exciting to lure me into sitting through them, too, but he couldn't keep a straight face. And the other shift doesn't find me as charming as Kate's team does."

"Ahh. Hence your morning of financial contemplation."

"Yes, hence."

"Well, darling, in that case, why don't I help you out – not with tickets or a loan," she adds, cutting him off before he can turn her down again. "Get dressed. We're going shopping, and we're going to find a gift for Kate that is within your budget. Then maybe we'll choose a charming place to make reservations for the two of you to have dinner."

"Kate might have to work," he reminds her. "Which means I might be working, too."

His mother waves her hand, clattering her bracelets together. "Oh psh. We can find a place that's flexible. Now get up, get dressed. I'll buy you lunch, if nothing else."

She ushers him to his feet, herding him around his desk and toward his bedroom.

"I'll be in the kitchen. Don't dawdle."

He complies without argument. It's only after he's standing at the mirror fixing his hair that it dawns on him that this is the first time he's had a lunch date with his mother in a long time.

It's fun. It feels almost like old times, walking the city with her, their arms linked as they joke about the little things. She says nothing when he takes charge of the shopping trip, allowing him to lead her into jewelry store after jewelry store. And when he finds the perfect gift for Kate, he doesn't argue as she spots him a little to keep him within budget.

Instead his lips brush her cheek. The soft floral scent of her perfume reminds him of growing up, all the times it was just the two of them against the world, and he wraps his arms around her, pressing his cheek against her head.

"Oh," she breathes, relaxing against him. "What's this for?"

Rick hums. "Just thank you, Mother."

She pats his back. "To help you show a gal like Kate Beckett what she means to you? Any time."

He can only chuckle. "She is something, isn't she?"

"She is. And not that I think she wouldn't stick around if you hadn't sprung for jewelry, but a little extra effort never hurts."

With that, she pats his chest, pulling away to swipe the bag from the jewelry counter and tug him down the street.

"Now, why don't we see about a restaurant for your date after we eat our lunch? No reason to starve before making our decisions."

He nods. "That sounds like a perfect idea, Mother."

In the end, he decides to scrap making reservations, choosing instead to plan a meal to make at home. It turns out to be the best choice, because their case runs long, keeping them at work long after dinner time.

As they leave the precinct on Valentine's Day evening, Kate loops her arm around his, dotting a kiss to his shoulder through his jacket.

"I'm sorry we're so late. Thank you for waiting."

Dipping his head, he nudges her nose with his. She sinks into him at the touch, breathing a sigh across his lips.

"Of course I waited. What would our first Valentine's Day together be if we weren't actually together?"

Her lips lift. "A little lonely?"

"That's putting it lightly. Sad is more like it."

Her mouth lands hard against his, her tongue pushing between his lips. He groans, palming her hip to keep her close.

"For both of us," she agrees. "I'm glad you were here today."

"Me too."

She hums, stealing one last kiss before tugging away and reaching for his hand.

"My place?" she asks, tilting her head. "So you're not tempted to cook tonight. We can order take out from the Chinese place you like. They should still be open."

Rick slips his fingers through hers. He pats himself on the back for bringing her gift to work with him. Sure, it's because he had toyed with the idea of hiding the box in her blazer or plopping it down on her desk and waiting for her to notice, but giving it to her in private is better.

"Let's pick it up on the way home," he suggests, squeezing her knuckles. "Then there'll be no interruptions."

His girlfriend offers him a sly smile. "I like the way you think."

Despite the late hour, they stroll the entire way, changing pace only to move around other pedestrians or stop for lights. Once they reach the restaurant,Kate's grip loosens to open the door and head inside.

"What do you think?" she asks, looking over her shoulder. "Try something new tonight?"

He lifts an eyebrow. "You want to experiment with food on Valentine's Day?"

Kate's smile twists into a smirk, the naughty, sly kind that always drives him a little bit batty with want. "Did I say anything about food?"

He stumbles over the threshold, knocking into the metal door handle. Hard.

"Ow."

"You okay?" Her hands reach for him, palms skimming his hips, soothing the dull throb in his side.

"Yeah. Yeah, just tripped."

Her lips brush his. "Sorry for distracting you."

"Don't be. It's just a bump."

Kate grins, rubbing his hip once again. "Well that's good to know. I'd hate to break you so early into my plan."

Oh jeez, she's going to kill him.

Mischief sparkles in her eyes, deep green against an amber backdrop. She doesn't elaborate on her 'plan' further, doesn't tease him at all. Instead she lifts onto her toes, pressing her mouth to his again.

"What are you going to have? To eat," she clarifies, narrowing her eyes when he opens his mouth to speak.

"Oh. In that case, I haven't decided yet."

"Mmm, well think fast."

They go back and forth over who's going to pay – she insists it should be her treat since their home cooked meal had to be put on hold for her case. He says it should be on him since it was supposed to be part of his gift from the beginning. In the end, she gets to the credit card machine first, swiping her debit card in triumph.

"The next one's mine," he says, crowding into her space.

"Dinner tomorrow night is yours," she reminds him, bumping him with her shoulder. "We'll go straight to your place after work."

"Deal."

She nods in agreement, leaning into him, resting her cheek on his shoulder to wait for their order.

"So," he murmurs after a while, breaking their easy silence, "are you prepared to be dazzled by what I got you?"

"I am. I'm also prepared for your jaw to drop when you see what I got you."

Anticipation floods his bloodstream. While he's been talking up the gift he had found for her, she's been mum on what she had picked for him, stating only that he will _love_ it.

"It's something skimpy, isn't it?"

Her mouth twists into a grin. "You would call that your gift, wouldn't you?"

"You in lingerie? Yes, yes I would. Is that my present? Because I'm okay with that being my present."

"No, no it isn't."

"Huh."

She laughs against his arm. "Mind-blowing isn't it? A gift that doesn't involve partial nudity from the start."

"Truly a brand new idea," he teases. "Well to make us even, I'll let you know your gift absolutely is a half-naked me."

His girlfriend laughs, rocking into him. "Exactly what I wanted. How'd you know?"

Rick shrugs. "I have a talent for guessing, what can I say?"

She squeezes his arm. "Well I can't say your talents go unappreciated. Your strip teases are always good for a laugh."

"Hey!" His mock-outrage makes her laugh even harder, but she doesn't take it back.

"Grab some napkins?" she asks when her name is called, swiping her lips over his cheek.

"Sure." He watches the sway of her hips as she steps up to the counter to retrieve their food.

The walk to her apartment is quiet. The sounds of the city serenade them as their elbows brush and bump. He can't help but glance over from time to time, watching her, taking in the way she shakes her hair away from her face. Their day wasn't short by any stretch of the imagination, but she's still radiant.

"Food or presents?" he asks once they're safely in Beckett's apartment lobby.

"As in which first?"

"Yeah," he says, taking the bag of food from her so she can shrug out of her coat.

"Hmm. I'm not sure I want our food to get cold because you can't keep your hands off of me once you see your gift, so we should probably eat first."

"Ohh, more big talk, Beckett. I think I need to see if you're gonna be able to back it up."

Kate crowds into his space, her lips glancing off his chin, dipping down his neck to his open collar. She kisses his throat, pressing her nose against his skin, fanning the fire in his belly.

"I know I can back it up," Kate growls, nuzzling his neck once more before pulling back. "But I also know how long ago lunch was. So food first."

Giving his lapel a gentle pull, she steps onto the elevator.

They eat in the living room, forgoing the decorum of eating at a table in favor of collapsing onto the plush cushions of Kate's couch. In spite of the huge portions, the containers are empty by the time they put their plates down on the coffee table and slump back. Beside him, Kate groans, pitching over to fit herself into the curve of his body.

"I don't think I can move," she mumbles, slinging an arm across his belly. His hand slips up her side, thumbing the ball of her shoulder.

"Tell me about it. It was delicious, though."

She nods, releasing an exhale into his shirt. "I'm still sorry we had to postpone your dinner. It would've been even better."

"We'll put that to the test tomorrow. Extended Valentine's Day."

"Extended Valentine's Day, huh? How long does this last?"

"I could go all week long."

She laughs, teasing her nail along his side, firm enough for it to tease but not tickle. "Could you now?"

"Well, maybe after my food settles." His lips touch her hair.

She barks a laugh, nodding into his chest. "Probably for the best."

"Yeah, probably," he hums, allowing his fingers to drift along the line of her spine and back up. Kate sighs, low against his shirt, the tension from the day leaving her warm and soft against him.

"Presents soon?" she asks after a few minutes, sounding more asleep than awake. Affection wells in his chest, robbing him of his breath; she's tired, so tired she's dozing off, but she's still trying to stick to their plan, their celebration.

"Sure. But you know we can wait until tomorrow morning, since you're off."

Her eyes pop open. "What? No. No," she denies, pushing herself upright with one hand, swiping at her face with the other. "Extended Valentine's Day does not mean we forgo presents to fall asleep on my couch like the least romantic couple in the world."

"It was just an offer," he says, toying with the edge of her sleeve. She hasn't even changed out of her work clothes, just kicked off her shoes and relaxed with him. "I like our night so far, and I'll like it regardless of how events unfold."

His girlfriend pitches forward, cupping his face in her hands and crashing her lips to his. His surprised hum makes her smile, makes her mouth soften on his, makes her tongue tease along his lower lip before it retreats.

"Food coma or no, Rick, you're unwrapping a present tonight, and it's going to be awesome. And I will beat you for best gift."

Glee licks at his heart. "I don't think so, Captain. Remember, I am something of a gift giving ninja."

Kate's lips brush his once more. "Prove it."

Palming her back to keep her close, he kisses her hard. "You're on."

They scramble off the couch, moving to opposite ends of the apartment to retrieve their gifts. Rick slips back onto the couch first, holding the painstakingly wrapped box between both palms.

Not for the first time, he wonders if he should've purchased something else, something larger, something grand. He has talked a good talk, but what if this gift _doesn't_ measure up?

He's in the process of mentally calculating how long it would take to find an open flower shop and dart over there to supplement the gift with another massive bouquet of lilies when Kate returns from her bedroom, her work clothes gone, a deep plum silk robe draped over her shoulders and cinched at her waist. Her lips curl as he gapes, but she doesn't tease him. Instead she slips onto the cushion beside him once more, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of bare skin.

"Kay," she breathes, drawing his eyes back to hers. "You want to go on three?"

Licking his lips, he nods. "Yeah, let's do that. One."

"Two," she joins the count.

"Three." They thrust the gifts toward one another, laughing as their fingers bump on the handoff.

She grins, already ripping the paper away from the box in her hands. His hands still under the flap of the envelope she'd handed him, eager to watch her expression as she reads the note he had taped to the box.

 _Kate,_

 _You are beauty, passion, and fierce intellect. Be my Valentine._

 _Rick_

A giddy sort of happiness washes over her face, lighting her eyes with the same emotion he feels rocketing around in his chest.

"Rick," she starts, slipping her fingers over his cheek. "Nobody's written me a Valentine in a long time. Thank you."

"You like it?"

She nods, dragging her teeth over her lower lip. "Uh huh."

"Good," he breathes, skimming his lips over her cheek. "There's more. Open the box, Kate. We need to declare me the winner already."

Turning, she catches his mouth in a sharp kiss. "Open the envelope, Castle."

It only takes a moment for them to reveal their gifts, to speak their awe as one,

"Oh my God, Rick."

"Kate, this is–"

They grin, meeting in the middle to share a soft kiss.

"You like them?" he asks, grinning when she somehow choruses his words.

"I love them," they say, unison again, knocking their foreheads together in amusement. He's never been in sync with anyone the way he is with Kate.

"You barely looked at yours," she teases, brushing her fingertip over the cerulean stones in the center of the earrings. "These are so gorgeous."

Relief surges through him, loosening the knot in his chest. She likes them. He could've gone more expensive, he could've splurged for the bracelet, but her delight with his pick is genuine.

Kate calls his name, garnering his attention once again. Her fingers brush his brows, smoothing away the pensive furrow he hadn't been able to hide.

"I love them," she promises. "I don't care what you spent, Rick. I'm not with you because you could stupidly throw money around and shower me with shiny things. I prefer when you're smart about it."

"Thanks, I think," he mumbles, but the corners of his lips lift anyway.

"Uh huh." She smiles, nudging his elbow. "You now. I wasn't sure if you already had these, but I took a chance."

Right. His eyes drop to the envelope – the tickets – in his hand. She'd given him tickets to the exclusive preview for the Star Wars Costume and Technology Exhibit, _and_ tickets to the sold out Music of John Williams concert being held the same night.

"Kate, this is amazing. This is absolutely amazing. How'd you-"

"Know a guy," she says, quirking a grin. He matches it; that's usually his line.

"These have been sold out for months. Even the mayor told me I was SOL when I asked if he could get me – us, you and me – in."

His girlfriend laughs at his slip, resting her forehead against his cheek.

"Then it's lucky you're dating the woman who knows the head of traffic control for the event. I loaned him a few officers for the night and he was helpful in working with person in charge of ticket sales to find two unsold and unclaimed tickets for me to buy."

He grins, dipping his chin to kiss whatever part of her he can reach.

"I know it's not an actual lightsaber like you had not-so-subtly hinted at, but…"

"No," he interrupts, stopping her before she can have any doubts. "It's amazing, Kate. I love it, thank you."

"Good," she breathes, slipping her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer once more. "I'm glad."

"Me too," he murmurs, brushing his knuckles against the silk of her robe. She shivers, sinking deeper into his chest, sealing her mouth to his.

"Call it a draw?" she asks when they part for a breath, nipping at his upper lip.

He nods. "A tie."

"A tie," she agrees, thumbing his earlobe.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Rick whispers, cradling her hips in his hands, eager to get her closer.

Kate smiles against his mouth. "Happy Valentine's Day, Rick. Now, why don't we kill the lights in here, head into the next room, and give each other another gift or two?"

Her hands cover his, tugging him off her couch before he has the chance to even process the request.

* * *

Four weeks later, Rick emerges from his bedroom on Sunday morning, intent on renewing his acquaintance with the coffee maker, only to find his mother has beaten him to the kitchen. He slows a bit, watching her wave a spatula as she sings to herself.

"Well good morning, Mother. What has you awake and celebrating?"

Although she doesn't jump or seem startled by his entrance, her dance number does come to an end.

"Morning, kiddo. No reason, really. It is simply a wonderful day."

Rick's thoughts turn to the woman he had left wrapped in his sheets. She's rarely the second one up, but he doesn't blame her for sleeping in. Kate had suggested going out for a drink after the exhibition and concert, and by the time they had stumbled through his front door, mouths fused, hands curled in each other's clothing, eager to get to skin, it had been pretty late.

"It is a nice day," he agrees, blithe as he relishes in the warmth of the previous evening once again. His skin still tingles from the reverence in Kate's touch, the passion in her kiss, the words he's not even sure she knows she panted against his throat as she came.

"Or it was until I saw you were cooking," he adds, quirking a smile and pressing a kiss to his mother's cheek.

"Oh hush. I'm not making this for you." She swats at him for his sigh of relief. "I assumed you and Katherine would have your own breakfast."

"That's a safe assumption," he says, stepping over to the coffee maker to fulfill his original mission.

"What is?"

Rick turns to find Kate shuffling through the living room, wrapped in his robe, her hair mussed from sleep.

"That we don't want Mother to give us food poisoning by making breakfast for all of us."

He receives identical sighs from the women in his life, which only makes his smile widen.

"Be nice," Kate chides, crossing the kitchen to press a grin into his cheek and settle into his side. "Morning, by the way, surprised you're up this early."

"Motivated to provide you with your coffee. I'm making pancakes, by the way."

She nods, knocking another kiss to his chin before stepping back and offering his mother a shy smile. "I'm sorry, Martha. That was rude of me. Good morning."

His mother waves off her apology. "Don't worry, darling. Love comes first, as it should."

Kate's cheeks darken, but she doesn't sputter or trip over herself to refute the claim.

"Well, he is making coffee without even being prompted to," she quips, curling her index finger around his pinky. Rick squeezes back in assurance that he knows, he feels it too, even if they're not yet ready to say it outside the haven of their bedroom.

"Ah, there's some brutal honesty," he teases, waiting until the coffee maker bubbles to life to release her hand and move to the pantry for breakfast supplies. Some of what he needs is already on the counter, but he needs just a few more things to make it perfect.

"Yeah, you caught me," Kate drawls, leaning back against the counter. "How was your night, Martha?"

"Wonderful. It was wonderful. The show was magical – though between you and me, Midge was a tad bit off, but the rest of the production made up for it – and then the after party? Even better. Let me tell you, actors _know_ how to bring down a house. Plus, I met a wonderful gentleman."

Out of the corner of his eye, Rick sees Kate's smile widen. "Sounds like you had fun."

"I did. You and Richard will have to tag along for the next one."

Rick snorts, shaking his head. "Mother, remember the last after party I attended with you?"

"I remember you almost left with a lampshade on your head."

Kate snickers, bumping him with her hip. "I would ask if this was when you were a teenager, but I'm sure it was probably last year sometime."

"It was three years ago, thank you. Last year Mother and I weren't-" he stops, licking his lips.

"We were fighting," she says, cutting through it. "Water under the bridge now, wouldn't you say?"

"I think so, too, Mother. I think so too."

His mother smiles, turning back to the stove to kill the burner and take her breakfast around to the bar stools. "Now, how was your night, kids?"

Kate grins, teasing a finger down his back before reaching into a cabinet for coffee mugs. "It was magical, Martha. Of course I had to stop Rick from trying to donate enough to bring home a screen-used costume and lightsaber, but it was fantastic."

"I'm telling you, Beckett. We could've pooled our money and shared the lot. Then nobody would've had to take out a loan to pay for it. It would've been great."

The women share a look, their smiles affectionate even as they try to look unimpressed.

"Cosplay aside, it was breathtaking. Seeing so many of the props? Hearing the music that way?" Her head tilts back, her smile so dreamy and whimsical, it steals his breath. "It was perfect."

Yeah, it is.

* * *

"You're sure this is okay?" he asks a few hours later. He and Kate have been sprawled at opposite ends of the couch enjoying companionable silence since his mother left to meet with the director for her new play, and he just wants to be sure his girlfriend isn't miserable doing nothing with their afternoon.

Her eyes lift from the file she's reading, more than a little unfocused. "Huh?"

"CompStat briefings that exciting, huh?" Rick teases, catching the toes she pokes into his thigh and squeezing. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay spending the day at home like this. Writing and working on boring paperwork."

"Believe me, I am _fine_ with you writing. As for the paperwork, it has to be done. I need to know this file and three others cover to cover by Tuesday."

"Ouch." He winces, leaning sideways to smudge his mouth over hers. "You got this."

Kate's lips lift under his. Her hands come up, cradling his jaw to keep him from retreating too soon. "How do you know?"

He grins. "Because you're the only person I've ever met who knows more about droids than I do; you'll be able to memorize it all, easy peasy."

Her face splits open at the praise. "Thanks, babe."

"Anytime," he promises, stealing another kiss before moving back to his side of the couch. It's only after Kate hums and buries her nose in her report once more that her words sink in – _babe_. She'd called him babe.

Instead of going back to work, he watches her, watches the crease of her brow, the soundless movement of her lips as she commits a figure to memory, the way her hair makes a gradual descent from behind her ears until it hangs over her face and forces her to push it back.

"Write, Castle," she orders, using her boss voice on him. It doesn't work on him as well as it does on her subordinates, though; he is a _huge_ fan of that commanding, clipped tone.

"I'm taking a break. Wanna take a short break with me?"

"I can't," she huffs, though it's more of a whine than anything else. "We just talked about this. And hey, don't think I didn't hear you say you're on a deadline too, buddy."

Rick lifts a shoulder. "My deadlines are generally more la-" A buzz from his phone cuts off the rest of the excuse. Turning the device over to get a look at the screen, he feels giddiness rise in his chest. "Hey! It's Alexis. Do you mind?"

Kate waves him off. "Answer it! And don't act like you didn't plan that."

He chuckles. "I didn't, but my daughter does have impeccable timing."

She rolls her eyes, but the grin she sports tells him she's pleased for him. "Uh huh. Answer it, Rick."

Right. He fumbles to accept the call, lifting the phone to his ear. "Hey, pumpkin, how's it going?"

Beside him, he sees Kate smile again before she goes back to her reports.

Over the course of the call, two things become apparent: One, his daughter is having fun with him again, giggling and laughing with him in ways she hasn't since she was in high school, maybe even before, and two, Kate has stopped reading her reports to watch him instead. She smiles when he smiles, dusts her fingertips over his arm when the discussion turns serious and he slumps a bit. Eventually she inches close enough to rest her cheek on his arm.

Easy contentment settles on his shoulders, making him a little bit silly with his responses. Both his daughter and his girlfriend laugh, though, letting him know without saying a word that they appreciate it. Him.

Eventually, Alexis says she has to go. She's making a pitch on her team's behalf at a dinner for new environmental initiatives.

"You'll be great, Alexis," he assures, hearing the breath she releases.

"Thanks, Dad. This – talking to you really helped."

His own breath freezes in his lungs; he'd helped. His daughter had called him for reassurance and he had been able to give that to her. Kate looks up, brushing her palm over his chest, encouraging him to breathe normally again. She might not be able to hear the call (though as close as she is, he's sure she's catching almost every word), but she knows what he needs.

"I'm glad, honey. Call me anytime," he promises, pressing a hand to his face before emotion gets the better of him.

"I will. Thanks, Daddy."

Kate's hand stills as he ends the call, but she doesn't move to put distance between them.

"She… said I helped," he murmurs.

His girlfriend smiles, pushing herself up until their heads bump. "Of course you did." She smooths her thumb over his cheek. "You're her dad."

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he nods.

"You know," Kate hums, "I'm so used to you acting like a twelve-year-old, it's kind of refreshing to see you as a father."

Rick's lips quirk. "Makes you want me, right?"

"Well," she starts, slipping her fingers into the v of his shirt. Her breath is warm on his lips as her nose brushes his. "Yeah it does. It really does."

"Thought you couldn't take a break," he teases as she slips a knee over his hips and sinks into his lap.

"I'll make up the time while you're napping later," she promises, before trailing her lips over his neck and showing him exactly how much she wants him.

* * *

 _A/N: Once again, I apologize for such a long wait between chapters. I never intend to leave things so long, but life has its own ideas sometimes. I am so grateful to all of you for sticking with me, in spite of the time between updates. Thank you, everyone. Thank you._


	17. Chapter 17

_I apologize for making everyone wait for this chapter. Thank you for your patience, and thank you for all of your kind words of encouragement._

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

She may be more than a little bit in love with him – something she's still getting used to admitting to herself – but right now she wants to throttle him a little bit.

Okay, a lot.

It isn't that she's unhappy about the interview. On the contrary, she is so proud and excited for him, for the fact that soon people will be talking about his work again. It isn't even that she's annoyed with the commotion being caused in her bullpen, as a reporter has set up with a rather large camera crew.

It's the bachelor party cop twins parading around said squad room, distracting her detectives, and hanging all over _her_ boyfriend. It's the fact that he had said this would be a _small_ activity.

This is not small.

Smoothing her lips into what she hopes is a pleasant enough smile, Beckett strides off the elevator and into the fray.

"Sorry I'm late. My meeting at 1PP went long."

Rick straightens at her voice, his arms dropping from around the models. "Captain Beckett, hello! This is the crew from Cosmo, the first of _three_ interviews today."

Kate quirks an eyebrow. Three is certainly news to her. When he had told her about the opportunity, there had only been _one_ interview. "Mr. Castle," she drawls. "Mr. Castle's visitors. Welcome to the Twelfth Precinct. Make yourselves at home, but if I could ask one thing? Would you mind shifting over so the board for one of our open cases isn't in your shot?"

Her boyfriend glances over his shoulder, giving her a sheepish look when he turns around again. "Sorry about that."

Her smile never wavers. "Thank you. I'm sorry if that messes with some of the ambiance, but–"

The photographer shakes his head. "No, no, Captain. I understand. Privacy being what it is and all."

"Yes that," she pauses, "and it's best not to release everything we know about our open cases. That makes catching killers a little bit difficult. But if you'd like, Mr. Castle can write out one for you – fictional, of course. He knows our procedure, and he does have a gift for making things up."

Plus, he can't cuddle up to models or have them hanging all over him if he's working at one of her boards. It's a win-win.

"Even better!" The woman without a camera around her neck applauds. "We can get shots of that. Ricky, care to work your magic? Maybe use it to give your readers some hints – Easter eggs – about the new book?"

Kate gives Castle a sideways glance before stepping out of the way. "Spare boards are in their usual spot." She turns to the reporter. "I have some paperwork to do, but I can set aside some time later if you'd still like to talk to me?"

"Oh yes!" the woman gushes. "Please. That would be amazing."

She smiles, almost genuinely this time. "Of course. Just come find me in a bit, and I'll try to make sure I'm ready."

"Of course."

Beckett steps back, ready to make her way to her office, only to hear her boyfriend stumble through an excuse to follow her.

"Kate?"

She exhales. "Rick, I need to catch up after this morning. What do you need?"

"You said you were okay with this," he starts, which sends a pulse of annoyance through her. She had agreed to this, had been thrilled for him, and she's not saying anything different now.

"Yes, Castle. I was – am – okay with this. I was just expecting _a_ magazine, one. Not _three_. And I wasn't expecting it to be _Strippers Who Love Writers Weekly_."

Instead of looking contrite, he grins. Damn. Not the response she was going for.

"Why, Captain Beckett, is that a hint of jealousy I hear from you?"

"Shut up," she snaps, opening her office door and stepping in without waiting to see if he'll follow. Of course he'll follow. "I… I just expected something a little bit different when you said Black Pawn wanted to start doing press early. You said a small interview and photo shoot, Rick. Small."

Her boyfriend winces. "Yeah, I may have downplayed the size a little bit."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Ya think?"

"I'm sorry. At least it'll go by quickly," he offers, lowering his voice.

It won't. She remembers her brief modeling stint all too well. Even the short sessions take a while.

"Just… keep it from getting insane, please? And stay _clothed_ ," she adds, giving the extra open button at his collar a long look. It hadn't been like that when she left his loft this morning.

His smirk returns, lopsided and annoyingly sexy.

"You _are_ jealous."

Mindful of the crowd just outside her office door, she steps into his space. "Jealousy implies I'm concerned someone will take something that's mine. Believe me, Ricky," she murmurs, tripping her fingers along the placket of his button up, slipping her knuckles against his bare skin, delighting in the wide flare of his eyes. "That is _not_ going to happen."

He swallows hard, desire spilling into his voice. "You're so hot, you know that?"

Her head falls to the side as her lips lift. "Hotter than the women out there using you as a stripper pole?" she asks.

"Infinitely," he says without hesitation.

"Good." She taps his chin, turning away and taking a step toward her desk. "Remember that."

Instead of leaving the office, Rick follows her.

"You know, you could be in the pictures, too?"

Scoffing, Kate settles at her desk "With them? Sorry, I'd rather the world not think that I get paid in singles."

Her boyfriend shakes his head. "Not this shoot, though I think they will want a picture of you to go along with your interview. But maybe for one of the other interviews? This crew came in with the plan for the whole sexy cop thing, but for the next one, why don't we suggest something different?"

Her eyes narrow. "And hear how boring it is in comparison?"

"Well no. Not boring. Just tasteful. We can do tasteful… at least while we're here in the precinct, right?" he rumbles, stepping closer and trailing a finger over one of her desk tchotchkes the same way he would trace the line of her spine. She fights the urge to shiver.

"Are you asking me to take naughty pictures with you, Mr. Castle?" she hums, looking up at him from under her lashes.

"Depends," he answers, low and teasing, despite the fact that the answer is unequivocally yes. "Do you have a uniform like that?"

Heaving a sigh, Kate points toward the bullpen. "Go away."

Rick grins, giving her a wink before he disappears to grab supplies and create his own version of one of their murder boards.

Affection touches her lips. Yes, she's annoyed by what she had walked into, but seeing him passionate never fails to thrill her.

Nearly an hour later, a tap at her office door forces her to lift her eyes from the folder in her hand. The reporter from earlier offers her a winning smile.

"Sorry for interrupting, Captain, but do you have time right now to speak with me? I've talked to everyone else already, otherwise I would give you some time and come back."

Right. She had said she would.

"Of course–"

"Christine," the woman supplies, eager.

"Of course, Christine." She gestures for the reporter to enter, waving the camera man lurking behind Christine into her office as well. "Come in, please. I apologize if I came off somewhat rude earlier. I was just surprised to find such a large crew here."

Christine laughs softly. "I apologize about that. We can be overwhelming. We should've communicated better with your office before we arrived."

Or communicated with her office at all, but it isn't the end of the world that they didn't. This is a good thing for Rick and for the department, which makes it a good thing for her.

This time when Kate smiles, it's genuine.

"No harm done. Should we get started?"

"Yes please." Christine starts the recorder, nodding to her photographer to do his thing. "Now, what's it like working with a world-famous author like Rick Castle? As his inspiration – his muse, as he called you – it has to be an amazing honor."

A snort bubbles in her throat, but she tamps it down. His _muse_. He would use that word in an interview. "It has certainly been an interesting experience."

"I imagine so. Especially since Castle has been instrumental in solving some of your toughest cases!"

Her eyes narrow a bit, flicking to the bullpen to find Castle clowning around with a different photographer. This must be the crew for the second interview. Thankfully, they seem to have come sans models.

"Well, while Castle has certainly been helpful, I think it's important to stress that my detectives are very good. We have some of the best closure numbers in the city, and those numbers have only improved with Mr. Castle's input. That's something I'm quite proud of."

Her interviewer nods, scribbling something in her notebook before smiling once again and asking her next question.

* * *

Although the interview goes well, Beckett can't help but release a breath of relief when she waves goodbye to Christine and her photographer. Both of them had been kind and professional, but she had lost quite a bit of time to answering questions and posing with her back against her office window to get the perfect shot of "Castle's muse watching over the streets."

And there's still another camera crew waiting. From the Ledger, she thinks.

Thankfully, the plans are simple enough: a photo or two of "the writer and his muse" at the fake murder board, and then a couple of photos of Beckett solo while Castle goes back to his interview. She's grateful for Mandy's efficiency, and Kate lets her know.

Of course by the time the photographer is gone, the need to eat has won out over going back to her reports.

Rick looks up when she steps closer to the desk he had pilfered for the day, asking the reporter from the Ledger to pause his recorder for a moment.

"Hey," Beckett murmurs. "Sorry to stop you. I'm grabbing some food before I get back to work. Bring you some?"

Castle nods, rocking onto his hip to reach for his wallet.

She waves him off, careful to keep the words as casual as possible, given their audience. "This one's on me. Finish your interview. Can I get you anything?" she asked, turning to said audience.

"No, no thank you, Captain," he answers, studying her with keen eyes.

Rick's watching her, his eyes soft, when she turns back to him.

"I'll be back," she says, walking away before she does something stupid and inappropriate like sift her fingers through the soft strands of hair at the back of her boyfriend's head.

This time when she returns, it isn't to a press ambush. The man Castle had been sitting with is gone, and another journalist has taken his place. And this time, there's no large crew, no models, no props; this reporter has a camera around her neck and a friendly smile, and that's it.

In fact, the buzz in the squad room has almost completely died down, making it feel almost like normal as Beckett sets the food down at Rick's elbow.

Her boyfriend smiles. "Break room? Amelia says she doesn't mind if we eat in front of her."

Kate hesitates; she doesn't necessarily want to be observed while she scarfs down a greasy burger, but there's no real reason to say no.

"No descriptions of what I look like when mustard drips down my chin, please."

Amelia laughs. "Deal."

Castle looks pleased as he gets to his feet and grabs his food.

"Have you seen this part of the precinct, Amelia? You'll love it. It is the quintessential police station break room."

Kate rolls her eyes, but gives him this.

The three of them settle at the table in said break room, two of them opening their lunch with a gusto that makes their companion smile.

"So is this the usual cop lunch? Burgers and fries?"

Castle laughs. "No, no this isn't usual. Beckett – Captain Beckett – has been on a kale and spinach salad kick lately. Most of the time, I try to bring lunch from home if I stay the entire day. Though sometimes I convince Detectives Ryan and Esposito that we just need a pizza or a burger."

"Of course you do," Kate sighs, shaking her head with undisguised affection.

"Hey, we share it with you, too. Or at least we offer. Most of the time."

She snorts. He's ridiculous, but damn if she doesn't love him.

Schooling her face again, she takes a bite of her burger, giving Castle the opportunity to conduct his interview.

In the end, she finds herself breaking in more often than she stays quiet, bickering playfully with him over his exaggerated accounts of many of their cases, giving Amelia ample material for the story she's trying to finish. After the reporter caps her pen and stops the recorder, Amelia tilts her head.

"Do you mind if I take some pictures as well?"

Rick looks in her direction. Kate shakes her head, tossing her balled up lunch trash into the garbage.

"I don't mind. Just no photos of ongoing casework. That's been my only request all day."

Amelia nods. "Of course, Captain. But I actually meant photos of the two of you. You and Rick. I saw the ones you took earlier when I was first getting in, so I'd like to do something similar."

Kate nods slowly, glancing at the man at her side. He smiles back, looking at ease with the idea.

"Just a pose or two," Amelia continues. "Maybe some candid shots? The book isn't just about police work, right? It's about you."

"Inspired by," she corrects, ignoring her boyfriend's snicker.

"Still, you're the face people will associate with the name, so I'd like to showcase that," Amelia explains. "And if you want to stop at any time, or don't want a certain pose, just say so. It's absolutely up to you."

Well, it's hard to argue with that. Beckett nods, tapping the table.

"Okay. Though, I think if you want true candid shots, I'm going to have to go back to work."

The reporter nods. "That's fine. Let me just get the poses and then you can go back to doing what you need to do."

Swiping a hand down her front to check for crumbs and spills, she clears her throat. "In that case, where would you like us?"

Forty-five minutes later, she watches Rick hand Amelia his card and shake her hand. His lips move, but she can only hear a rumble of what it is he's saying. Something about not being able to wait for 'that.' Whatever 'that' is.

Amelia nods, but Kate can't tell what her response is before the other woman turns to leave.

Moving back to her desk, Beckett lifts a hand in farewell, smiling when the reporter returns the gesture.

Rick slips into her office a few minutes later, checking his watch.

"So it is almost quitting time. Shall we get out of here? Unless you have more stuff to do?"

She does, given that she spent more time talking to reporters and taking pictures than she did working, but Kate hums instead, lacing her fingers together and resting her hands on her desk.

"We can… after you tell me what that was about." Her eyebrows lift in expectation.

Rick's face turns innocent. "What? I was saying goodbye. I gave her my card so I could get a copy of her story when she's done with it."

"Uh huh," she drawls. "You sure?"

"Yep." He pops his lips.

"So 'that' is her story?"

His eyes widen a bit, but he recovers a second later. "Yeah."

"Castle," she murmurs, expecting him to squirm.

Her boyfriend stands his ground, though. "I asked for an advanced copy. As opposed to waiting until the magazine comes out. That's all 'that one' means."

She doesn't believe him, but her phone buzzes from her desk, effectively ending the conversation for the time being.

Rick settles into his chair as she takes the call, pulling his phone from his pocket and immediately opening an app to play a game.

By the time she shuts her computer down for the night, exhaustion has settled hard on her shoulders, weighing her down as she stands. Rick gets to his feet as well, reaching for her jacket and holding it open for her.

"Well, Captain, may I make you dinner?" he asks, keeping his voice low as they slip from her office and make their way through the now-quiet bullpen. "To say thank you for putting up with all of this today?"

She hesitates. There's a part of her that wouldn't mind just sliding into the bath with a glass of wine and scrounging for a meal later on, but even after the craziness of the day, the thought of saying no and watching his face fall doesn't appeal to her at all. So she proposes a compromise,

"As long as you don't mind me taking a bath while you cook, you have a deal."

Her boyfriend beams, waiting until they've stepped beyond the precinct walls to lift her messenger bag from her shoulder and offer her his arm.

"I can think of worse things than knowing you're naked, wet, and soapy just a few walls away."

Kate laughs, shaking her head. "Of course you can."

Rick grins, slipping his hand over hers, letting her set the pace on the walk home to her apartment.

* * *

Two weeks later, she wakes to a trail of kisses along her spine and gentle fingers tripping over her sides.

"Mmm, hey," she rasps, reaching back to palm his head when he rumbles a greeting into the curve of her neck. "You're up early."

"I am," he murmurs, dropping another kiss behind her ear. "Had to make breakfast and get things ready."

Kate puffs a laugh. "Things?"

Castle's hand coasts along her side, slowing to cradle her hip.

"Yep, things," he says simply, touching his lips to the corner of her mouth. "Happy Anniversary, Kate."

Her heart flutters. A year ago they had started dating. Not that disastrous charity auction dinner, but really and truly dating. A year ago he had opened himself up to her, and in turn she had allowed him to start finding his way through the cracks in her walls. "Happy Anniversary, babe."

Rick grins. "Sit up. Food and presents time."

Sleepiness still tugs at her brain, but excitement wins out, giving her the energy to roll onto her back, pull the t-shirt he offers over her head, and settle herself against the mound of pillows Castle prepares for her.

"Okay," he breathes, twisting to grab the bouquet of flowers he had stashed on the chair beside the bed.

Kate gapes; lilies are her favorite, and he must have two dozen of the beautiful, bright flowers in his hand. She takes the bundle with careful fingers, touching one of the blossoms before lifting it to her nose.

"Rick, these are gorgeous."

He beams. "I'm glad. And now, your breakfast," he rumbles, retrieving the wooden serving tray from the chair as well.

Their breakfast, she hopes; because there's no way she can eat all of this on her own. He's somehow packed the tray full of fruit, eggs, bacon, French toast, even pancakes. She's a little afraid to see what her kitchen looks like right now.

"Share with me?" she asks, offering him a strawberry.

Her boyfriend reaches for the fruit, taking a careful bite. Juice stains his lips, inviting her to taste his mouth, but she reaches for her coffee instead.

"More?" she offers once the strawberry is gone.

Rick smiles, giving her a short nod. "I will, but after presents."

He offers her a two wrapped gifts, one large and flat, one obviously a jewelry box.

"Wait, wait." Kate lowers her coffee and pitches sideways, reaching into the nightstand drawer for part of his gift. The other part – the large part – is in the laundry room, hidden from prying eyes. "Yours, too. There's more, but I'll get up for it after you open this."

Rick grins, his face lighting up with the joy of a little boy on Christmas morning. His fingers close over hers around the envelope, his mouth seeking hers instead of taking the gift from her hand.

She sinks into him, slipping her free hand into his hair, keeping him close even after he releases her lips.

"Kate, before you open your gift," he trails off, thumbing the back of her hand.

Her eyes lift to his, watching him swallow, trying to wait him out only to steal another kiss before he can continue.

"I love you, Kate," he breathes, the confession a whisper against her lips. Her heart tumbles into her ribs, stealing her breath, tunneling her vision as the tremble of joy spreads through her limbs.

"I love you," he continues, louder this time, gaining steam. "You're extraordinary, Kate. Every day with you is extraordinary, and I love you."

Her fingers slip from his hair, tracing the line of his jaw. "Rick, I love you, too."

It's a woefully inadequate way of expressing herself, of showing even a fraction of her gratitude for the happiness he's given her, but Rick takes another kiss from her mouth, accepting her words as though she had given him gold.

"I love you," he repeats, beaming when she echoes the words back to him over and over.

"Kay," she husks finally, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, ignoring his quiet groan. "Open your present."

He sits back, taking the card from her hand.

"You, too."

Kate nods, picking up the larger of his gifts, pausing to watch him rip into the envelope and slide the card out of the carnage. Choosing an anniversary card that felt like them had been a task, but the labor was worth it to watch his smile spread as he reads.

Glancing up, he gestures for her to open her gift before he dives back into her note. She makes quick work of the wrapping paper, only to stop short at Rick's gleeful intake of breath.

"A certificate of authenticity for – _Kate_."

She grins. He had wanted one so badly at the exhibition, when she saw the listing for a similar one go up on eBay, she hadn't hesitated to bid.

"Are you serious? You got me a–"

"Laundry room," she murmurs, nodding toward the door. "In the broom nook."

His hand cups the back of her head, bringing her into a devastating kiss. "I love you," he says, looking toward the door.

"Uh huh," Kate grins, sucking in a shaky breath. "Go on."

He practically falls off the bed in his haste to get to the gift, leaving her in comfortable silence.

Silence that's broken by the whoop of joy that echoes through her apartment a few seconds later.

Kate grins, lowering her chin and moving the wrapping paper aside to reveal his gift.

Her face stares back at her. Her face and Rick's, their smiles bright and sweet – so obviously loving – as they stand in each other's space.

Wait, this is… they took this recently. They were debating something, she's sure, but she can't remember what it was.

"Amelia showed me that one after you went back to work. She said she wouldn't run it because it… it felt private. So I asked for it instead," Rick says from the doorway, his authentic, screen used lightsaber clutched in his hand. "I thought it was gorgeous."

Her fingers trace the lines of his face in the photo, taking in the adoration in his eyes, the mirroring devotion in hers.

This is how others see them?

"It's beautiful, Rick. This is what you were talking to her about, isn't it?"

A sheepish smile touches his lips. "Guilty. I did ask to read her story early, too, but getting this picture was the big thing."

Kate grins, holding out a hand to him. "You're sweet."

He pads over, settling the lightsaber against the nightstand before climbing onto the bed with her. His large hands cup her face, his thumbs making gentle strokes over her cheeks.

"And you are amazing, Kate. This is… I'm speechless."

Color floods her cheeks. "You aren't so bad yourself, babe. This picture is gorgeous. I can't believe she was able to capture this."

He rests his forehead on hers. "Open the other one," he says after a moment, pushing the smaller box into her hand.

Settling against his shoulder, she rips the paper off and lifts the lid to reveal a circle of gold skulls. "Rick," she breathes. "This is stunning. It's perfect."

When he says nothing, her lips touch his jaw. "It's too much."

"So's a lightsaber," he counters, brushing her hair away from her face.

"But it's worth it," she insists, holding out her wrist for him to help her with the bracelet. "I love you," she adds when he finishes, touching his chin with soft fingers.

His lips touch hers, soft and undemanding.

"I love you, too, Kate. Thank you for this," he murmurs, reaching for his gift again, powering it up to show her it works. "This is amazing."

"I'm glad you like it. Though, for the record, thank you for telling me you love me before you saw this. Otherwise I'd worry."

Rick feigns offense only to grin against her shoulder. "Never, Kate. Never worry."

She exhales, resting her palm on his chest, savoring the steady thud of his heart. "Thank you for my gifts, Rick. I know you spent way too much."

"It's worth it," he promises, echoing her words back to her. Kate grins, watching him take their gifts and the tray with their breakfast and put them aside. "Happy Anniversary," he says, crawling back to her, his hands bracketing her hips as she reaches for him.

"Happy Anniversary," she breathes, tugging at his shirt. "Our food's going to get cold," she teases, arching into his hands.

"Let it," he says, lifting her sleep shirt over her head. "I'll make more. An even bigger feast." He dips, stealing her breath with his lips and the slide of his hands.

They don't eat until much, _much_ later, but she has no complaints about that.


	18. Chapter 18

_Once again, thank you all for your kind words and your unwavering support for this story._

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Eighteen**

* * *

She has to admit, a long weekend at the beach has been exactly what she's needed.

All summer long, she's been juggling murders and meetings, needing to justify her department's every move, so when Castle had sauntered into her office early last week and suggested a break, she hadn't exactly been subtle in her rush to agree.

Not that Rick had complained at all. He's been just as busy as she has, making final edits to his book at the beginning of the summer, and then early promotion these last few weeks. Half a dozen morning shows have booked him already, each wanting to be the first to have Black Pawn's prodigal son on their program, and it's only going to get worse once the book is released in a couple of weeks. No, Rick has needed the break, the opportunity to calm his nerves and recharge, too.

Over the last two days, they've both mellowed considerably, spending most of their time lazing about, making love, swimming in his pool, strolling on the beach with loose, linked fingers. This morning, she had tried to coax him out of bed early to run with her, but in the end, he had made a compelling argument for staying in and getting sweaty another way.

Again, there had been no complaints from either of them.

She also has no complaints about spending the day out by the pool (with the promise of traipsing down to the beach later in the afternoon). It's gorgeous out here; one corner of the pool deck is shady, a wood awning covering cozy lounge chairs in case they want to nap. Music – Coltrane, her favorite – spills from the speakers, just loud enough to stimulate her senses, but not so loud that they can't talk to one another. And they keep taking turns bringing each other iced coffee and fruit, with the promise of cocktails in a little while.

It might be five o'clock somewhere, but it's still just before noon in the Hamptons.

That said, her coffee is gone and most of the ice cubes have begun to melt; it's time for a glass of water.

Beckett hums, taking a moment to stretch the laziness out of her muscles before she stands. Castle lifts his eyebrows beside her, indicating that, despite his peaceful appearance, he's awake and paying attention behind his sunglasses.

"Getting water," she explains, wiggling the glass over his chest, delighting in his quiet hiss as droplets of condensation land on his skin. "Want anything?"

His hand curls around the back of her knee, making a lazy, tantalizing trip higher along her thigh. Kate shivers, reaching back to halt his teasing fingers.

"From inside," she adds, jostling their joined hands. "Troublemaker."

The smile he gives her in return is unrepentant, and she allows him to use his grip on her fingers to tug her down for a kiss.

"I'm good, I think."

She smiles against his lips. "Okay."

"But I may need some help reapplying the lotion when you get back. I can offer my services in return, of course."

"Uh huh," she says, indulging in another soft touch of their lips. "You're very generous, Castle."

The hand not embraced by hers sneaks up her side, his palm warm against her sun-kissed skin. His thumb makes a gentle swipe just beneath her ribs, drawing a shiver up her back.

"I appreciate you saying tha-at! Kate!" he squawks, squirming away from the cold glass she's pressed to his bare skin.

Kate steps away from his wandering hands, poking her tongue between her lips. "Gotcha. I'll be right back, and then I'll put more lotion on your back and shoulders."

"And the rest of me?" Rick asks, lacing his fingers behind his head as he lets his back rest against the lounger once more. His lips twist, his smirk cocky.

"Not the kind of lotion I prefer use, but we don't want important parts to burn," she quips, reaching out and tapping his mouth closed with a finger before turning toward the house.

"You think you're so funny," he calls after her, his grin bleeding into his voice.

Kate looks over her shoulder, offering him a wink in return.

She's gone longer than she intends, having decided while she was inside to make up a plate of cheese, crackers, and garlic spread, but it's still a surprise to find him pacing underneath the awning, his phone pressed to his ear. He'd been the one to suggest the 'no phones all weekend' rule; she hasn't been able to adhere to it, having needed to field calls from Ryan and Esposito a few times, but Rick has barely touched his cell until now.

"No, Paula, she hasn't said anything." Kate watches his shoulders lift toward his ears, but hesitates to step into the shade with him. He is in the middle of a private conversation, after all. "I know, I would too, but she has a life, and I can't force her to be there for the sake of a photo-op."

He sighs, a mournful sound that pulls Kate closer before she recognizes what her feet are doing. She lowers the plate and her water glass onto the end table, wiping her damp hand on her thigh before touching the center of Rick's back.

Her boyfriend jolts anyway, spinning to face her. She watches his face change, his downturned lips lifting into a jovial smile.

She's been with him long enough to recognize that smile, to hate it a little bit.

Lifting onto her toes, she kisses the curve of his jaw, does what she can to turn that smile into something real, something he isn't hiding behind. His shoulders relax a tad as his arm bands around her waist and she does the same, wrapping him in a hug.

"Yeah," he sighs again, though it's slightly less weary this time. "Yeah, I will. And I'll let you know, yes. Thank you, Paula."

He ends the call, tossing his phone onto the lounge chair. Beckett cringes, waiting for it to bounce off and land on the concrete, but thankfully it ricochets toward the center, landing on an outdoor throw pillow instead.

"You okay?" Kate asks after a moment, glancing up. His eyes are still troubled, a deep sapphire that stutters her heart, but he blinks and they clear.

"Yeah," he says, swaying to the sultry saxophone piping through the speakers. "Yeah, I'm okay. Paula just called to ask about a few of the arrangements for the launch party."

She nods, not believing him for a second, but willing to let it go for the time being. More than likely he'll tell her in the darkness of their bedroom later, when his eyelids are drooping and his annoyances have started to slip away. As much as she hates that there's something bothering him, hates not knowing what it is, she'll give him that time.

"I brought some food," she says instead. "Let's eat under here and then I'll rub you down again. With sunscreen," she adds, rolling her eyes at his leer.

"Rub me down with anything you'd like, Captain Beckett. I'm not picky."

"Of course you're not." She pats his cheek, stepping back to retrieve the plate and make herself comfortable on the wide double-lounger.

Rick takes a moment to smirk before he slides beside her and reaches for a cracker, playfully knocking her knuckles with his in the process.

Once their snack is gone, Beckett slips off the lounger to grab the sunscreen from the chairs closer to the pool, returning to find Rick sprawled on his belly. He offers her a lopsided grin, his eyes hopeful.

"Easier access," he explains, wiggling his fingers against the knee she props on the lounger.

"Uh huh." She gives in anyway, sitting astride his hips, careful to ease her weight down on him. Breaking him would put a significant damper on the rest of their weekend.

They both know that a massage on top of sunscreen reapplication is indulgent, but as Rick rumbles in contentment under her hands, surrendering to her ministrations, Kate's not displeased with the task. Touching him, soothing him, still sends flutters through her belly.

"She asked about Alexis," he murmurs finally, his words distorted by the cushion at his cheek. "Paula, I mean."

Surprised by the admission, Beckett's fingers twitch, a restless flutter instead of the deep pressure she's been working with for the last few minutes.

"Yeah?" she asks when she recovers, tracing the ridges of his spine. "What'd she say?"

He sighs, turning his head a bit more, finding her eyes. "She asked if I know whether Alexis will be at the party or not."

Kate nods, sliding her palms up his back, slipping her fingers into his hair.

"Paula wants a photo-op. The picture of us basking in my resurging career."

She nods again, eager to hear the rest of the story, why it has him worked up. "But you don't want that? You never had Alexis in many pictures before, I know."

Rick's lips twitch at the reminder that before they were anything else to one another, she was a fan. He doesn't tease her, though.

"Yeah. I just… if Alexis comes, I don't want her to feel like she's only there to be a prop for a picture."

"I'm sure she won't feel like that, babe," Kate murmurs, thumbing his earlobe. "She knows how big this is for you and what it entails."

He sighs, tucking his chin against his shoulder. "I don't even know if she's coming," he confesses.

Kate blinks. _That_ is unexpected.

"What do you mean?" Surely he hasn't excluded his daughter from this, from such an important night.

"I told her," Rick insists before she can ask. "I gave her the details, and she said she would check her calendar, but she hasn't mentioned anything about it since."

"Okay," she says, parsing the statement for herself. "And you don't want to ask her if she'll be there for the pictures–"

"–Because it'll sound like I'm only asking her _because_ of the pictures. Or trying to guilt her into coming when she'd rather stay out of things."

Sympathy floods her belly; every bit of progress he makes with his daughter is accompanied by so much self-doubt. "No, Rick. She'll know you're asking because you want her there. And if she doesn't, then you reassure her how much you're looking forward to seeing her, how happy you'll be to have her there."

"I just don't want to feel like I'm forcing her to attend."

Kate licks her lips, taking a moment to collect her thoughts before she speaks. "From what you've told me, you can't force your daughter to do anything if her mind is already made up."

He chuckles at that. "You're right about that. One time when she was three, she held her breath until she passed out because I wouldn't buy her a candy bar."

"Yeah," Beckett laughs, pitching forward, smearing her lips to his cheek. "So do you really think you'd be able to drag her out here if she doesn't want to be here?"

"No," he says after a moment of consideration. "I couldn't."

"Uh huh. So, the next time you talk to Alexis, tell her about Paula's proposal, tell her you'd love to have her there, and let her make her own decision."

He relaxes under her hands once more. "You're right."

"Course I am," she hums, pecking his mouth. "Now, your back's done and I think it's had ample time to sink in. Why don't you get whatever else you think needs sunscreen, and then meet me in the water?"

Rick twists underneath her, looping an arm around her waist to keep her steady as he rolls onto his back.

"I could," he rumbles against her lips, his fingers slipping along her back, "but I haven't returned the favor just yet."

She shivers at his touch, sinking deeper into his lap.

"Well, I don't want to burn," she muses, gasping into his kiss as he works the knot of her bathing suit top loose.

"No, you really don't."

* * *

Later that evening, while he sleeps soundly with his arm draped over her midsection, his quiet breath against her bare shoulder, she remains awake.

His words from earlier, his defeat, keep cycling through her mind and breaking her heart anew. He's truly afraid that his daughter won't want to attend his book party, that asking her would be overstepping the tentative boundaries they've been rebuilding.

But it's… _Heat Wave_ is his first book since _Finite Laughter_ ; it's a big deal. He should make it a big deal, and he should have his family – his daughter included – there with him to celebrate.

Dragging her teeth over her lip, Kate considers her options. She could stay out of it – she probably _should_ stay out of it – and let Rick work things out with Alexis on his own, but that comes with the risk of him being too accommodating, too eager to avoid potential conflict, and his big night being a disappointment. She could talk to him again, shake him awake right now and implore him to stretch beyond the comfort zone he's set up and guarantee his daughter's attendance. Or she could take matters into her own hands, and leap beyond careful nudging to downright meddling.

There are half a dozen reasons why she shouldn't, but the memory of his face – the cautious, hopeful elation – every time he speaks to his daughter on the phone supersedes all of that.

Decision made.

Twisting her head, Kate studies him, wanting to be sure he's really asleep before she does this. His face is slack, his lips parted, and she sees the occasional movement of his eyes beneath his lids; he's out. Her fingers lift, ready to stroke his cheek, stopping at the last moment. If she touches him, he might awaken, and her entire half-plan depends on him being asleep. Instead her hand lowers, curls around his wrist, easing his arm away from her belly.

Careful not to rock the mattress too much, she slides out of bed, eyes scanning the floor for a shirt and the underwear he had peeled from her hips earlier. His discarded t-shirt is the first option she can find. It falls to mid-thigh, and it's soft and smells like the beach and him; she's not going to put it down to find something else.

Once covered, she lifts her phone from her nightstand, tiptoeing around the bed to swipe Rick's from the matching table. She retreats to the living room with both phones.

The flaw in her plan becomes obvious when Alexis picks up on the fourth or fifth ring, her voice cracked with sleep.

Damn it. It's only 10:30 in California, but she had misjudged when the younger woman might have called it a night.

"Hello?" Rick's daughter repeats, a tad more impatient this time.

"I'm so sorry, Alexis. I didn't mean to wake you."

There's a pause, but Alexis doesn't hang up. "Who is this?"

Wincing, Kate introduces herself, adding, "I'm calling to talk to you about your dad."

"My dad? Did he get shot? Is he okay? What happened?"

"What? No. No, no, he's fine, he's fine." Damn it, she is screwing this up. Maybe she shouldn't have done this at close to two in the morning. "He's asleep. God, I'm sorry, I didn't… didn't even think about the way that might sound."

And she should have. From experience, she absolutely should have known what opening like that would sound like. A cop calling in the middle of the night, wanting to talk about a family member. Shit.

"Your dad's fine, I promise. I'm sorry to scare you like that."

"Oh, thank god. Okay. What um, what's–"

"Why am I calling you like this?"

"Yeah," the young woman breathes. "Not that… I mean it's nice to finally talk to you, but it's a little out of the blue."

"It is, I know. Is this an okay time to talk? Momentarily scaring the hell out of you notwithstanding."

"Oh yeah, yes. I just fell asleep on my couch," Alexis laughs, sounding so like Rick, Kate can't help but smile.

"Okay. I won't keep you for very long, but ah, has your dad mentioned his book launch party to you?"

"He told me about it a few weeks ago. Why? Has something changed?"

Glancing around the darkened living room, Beckett considers the girl's response before she answers, "No, nothing big. But… well, I don't know what your plans are – and you can feel free to tell me to get lost for being presumptuous – but I know your dad's really hoping you'll be there, and I… I was hoping I'd be able to make a case for surprising him?"

"Oh! I… well, I, things are still a little up in the air with work, but what did you have in mind?"

Kate's lips lift. That's a promising response. "Okay, here's what I'm thinking…"

* * *

Time is not on her side.

Any other day it wouldn't matter, but Rick's book launch party is in just a few hours and she needs to be at the airport to pick up Alexis soon, and she just cannot catch a break. Her morning had been insane, her afternoon has been insane, and she still has a meeting with the DA, paperwork, and settling a personnel matter with two of her uniforms on her docket. To say she will be cutting it close when she finally gets out of here is an understatement.

At least Rick will be there on time. She sent him home over an hour ago, when Ryan and Esposito disappeared into the box to interview another suspect for one of their open cases. He hadn't wanted to go, had even whined and suggested that he could run home for his suit and stay with them, but she had been adamant.

It's his night, he should be celebrating. Plus, she can't spirit off to the airport to retrieve his daughter and surprise him if he's tagging along. Assuming she manages to get to the airport in time.

No, she'll make it, even if it means telling her grumbling officers to knock off for the night and come back in the morning when she can address their grievances with fresh eyes.

Thankfully, when her first alarm goes off, she's in the process of listening to Officer Rice's side of the issue and weighing it against what his partner has already told her.

By the time the second alarm – the one that means she's on the verge of being late – buzzes, she's managed to find a solution that both partners are satisfied with and they leave her office, parting just outside the door with companionable nods. After that, Beckett checks her email for anything urgent, makes sure Alexis's flight hasn't already landed, and grabs her things to duck out.

The boys wave to her as she leaves, saying they'll see her later.

Of course, traffic has started to build up, so by the time she makes it to the airport, Alexis's flight is on the ground. She hasn't texted Kate to let her know she's made it to baggage claim yet, but Beckett goes skidding into the airport anyway, hoping Rick's daughter isn't standing around waiting.

Her boyfriend has shown her enough pictures to know what Alexis looks like, both as a redhead and with dark hair, so after a scan of the area, she's confident that she hasn't made the young woman wait.

Still, Kate looks around the room once more, checking the baggage corrals at the far end of the room before moving closer to the hallway where Alexis will no doubt emerge.

As she waits, she fidgets. Maybe it was best that she'd been so busy all day; she hasn't had time to think about the fact that she's about to meet the most important person in Rick's life – without him present.

What if Alexis hates her right off the bat? What if they don't get along once their mission is done?

What if this hurts the progress Rick and Alexis have made?

"Captain Beckett – Kate?"

Beckett twists, coming face to face with a young woman with flowing dark waves and striking blue eyes. Alexis Castle smiles – a bit shy, but still authentic – before offering Kate her hand.

"Hi," she breathes, covering her surprise with a firm pump of Alexis's hand. "Alexis, hi. It's so nice to finally meet you."

Alexis nods, her smile widening. "You too. I've heard a lot about you from my dad."

"Me too." Beckett smiles again, realizing belatedly that their simple handshake has gone on far too long. "Sorry," she laughs, taking her hand back. "Been a bit scattered today."

"I understand. Plus, I bet all of the delays this morning didn't help."

She is right about that. Mechanical trouble that forced the airline to bring a new plane had already set their plans back; they were just lucky for the tail wind that helped them land close to the new 'on time' instead of making them really late.

"They certainly made the day interesting, at least," she answers, glancing at her phone to check the traffic. "We're going to be cutting it close, but I think we can make it to my apartment to change before the party. Is that still okay with you?"

Alexis nods, adjusting the strap of her duffle bag on her shoulder. "Sure, yeah. Whatever's easiest for you."

"Well, I could go as is and let you change in the bathroom here, but that sounds pretty awful, so we'll just move fast once we get to my place. Hopefully we won't miss too much of the party."

Rick's daughter eyes her, looking thoughtful. "I've always been told it's better to be fashionably late anyway. It's one of my mom's favorite pieces of advice."

Kate hums, gesturing toward the door, trailing behind Alexis as the crowd pushes closer. "I can't say being fashionably late to meet with the commissioner gets me very far."

She cringes as soon as the words leave her mouth. The last thing she wants to do is offend her boyfriend's daughter by coming off as dismissive about the girl's mother. "I, ah, that was–"

Alexis grins, her seriousness dissolving as she chuckles at Beckett's expense. "I never said it was good advice."

Now there's the family resemblance: the lopsided smirk, the teasing; just like Rick.

Pink-cheeked, Kate manages to laugh at herself as well. "Come on, my car is over here."

"Is this your police car?" Alexis asks, glancing between Beckett and the deep blue sedan that's double parked at the curb.

"Ah, yes and no. It's technically my personal car, but," her voice lowers so only Alexis can hear her next words, "I kind of bent the rules a bit to park it here today."

The young woman nods, tilting her head to study the car. "Does this mean you can't use the siren to get us there faster?"

This time, Kate tosses her head back as she laughs.

Like father, like daughter.

* * *

They're only half an hour late, but the party is already in full swing. Beckett can't help but exhale in relief; most of the reporters have migrated inside, giving them the perfect opportunity to traipse through the hotel lobby and into the back of the ballroom without drawing too much attention to themselves.

She spots Rick almost immediately, looking both put together and sexy with his suit and open collar. His smile is genuine as he makes the rounds, no trace of the smug persona she knows he puts on when he's feeling unsure. Her stomach flutters, anticipating the moment he notices them and realizes what they've done.

"Has he seen you yet?" Alexis murmurs, sweeping her eyes around the room. "I thought I saw my gram, but she disappeared."

"She's here," Kate confirms, turning to face her companion. "Martha put herself in charge of making sure your dad got here on time."

Alexis shakes her head, affection written in her smile. "Of course she did."

"Come on," Beckett murmurs when Rick turns away, heading to the opposite end of the room. "Let's sneak up on him."

They make it as far as the center of the room, bumping into Martha on their way, before Gina Cowell steps up on the platform doubling as a stage, calling for everyone's attention.

"Over the years, he has titillated us with mysteries, mayhem, and forays into the supernatural, he has terrified us with glimpses into the minds of mad men, and he has thrilled us with the exploits of a private investigator-turned-spy. And tonight, we celebrate again. _Heat Wave_ marks the beginning of a new adventure, with a heroine like no other."

Beckett's heart stammers in her chest; Nikki Heat. Her character. The character inspired by her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming, for the first time in a long time, Richard Castle."

The room erupts in applause as Gina steps away from the podium and the guest of honor takes her place. Kate watches him smile and thank his publisher before he turns to the crowd, his eyes scanning the room as he gathers his thoughts.

She knows the moment he spots them. Elation floods his face, stutters his breath, and it's only after they both wave that he's able to get himself together long enough to make his speech.

But even then, she hears the love in his voice and lets it fill her up.

 _"Although it has just begun, this evening has already been more amazing than I could have hoped."_

* * *

 _A/N: I've been so excited to share this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading, and for sticking with me on this journey._


	19. Chapter 19

_As always, I cannot thank you all enough for your amazing enthusiasm, your kind words, and your willingness to continue this journey with me. I hope you enjoy this chapter._

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Nineteen**

* * *

Kate Beckett is, without a doubt, the most extraordinary woman he has ever met in his life.

Not only has she made it to his book party after an insane day at work, she's brought his daughter, too.

Alexis had said she wasn't sure if she'd be able to come because of a work project, and yet she's here. She's here standing beside Kate and his mother, looking up at him with pride in her eyes for the first time in so very long.

And he has no doubt that, somehow, Kate made that happen.

God, he loves this woman.

His throat tightens, emotion threatening to overwhelm him, but he continues with his remarks.

"Although it has just begun, this evening has already been more amazing than I could have hoped. Thank you for coming, thank you for picking up one of my books again – pick up several, in fact. Please."

His audience laughs, but he can only seek Kate out once more. She matches his look, her eyes impossibly soft, giving him a nod to continue.

"And before I let you go back to the party, and the open bar, I want to take a moment to thank Captain Kate Beckett for being a beacon of inspiration, support, and amazing one-liners, and everyone at the Twelfth Precinct for opening their station and their world to me. It has been a privilege to annoy you daily."

He manages to find Esposito and Ryan in the crowd – Kate's friends, now his friends too, in some way – to give them a grateful nod. Both men raise their drinks in return.

"This book would not have been written without you. And it wouldn't be a success without all of you to celebrate it. Enjoy the rest of your evening, everyone. Thank you."

He bounds off the stage before the applause even finishes, making his way through a crowd of well-wishers to get to Kate and his daughter.

Tunnel vision has him brushing past his mother, offering a rushed apology over his shoulder. Joy has him forgetting the rest of the things they still need to work out in favor of swooping in and lifting Alexis off her feet. His daughter squeals, wrapping her arms around his neck, hanging on as he spins in half circles.

"Alexis, you made it! You made it, you made it."

His daughter laughs, genuine and joyful, squeezing his shoulders. "I made it. Kate picked me up at the airport."

"That's – I can't believe – I thought you said you might need to work."

"Yeah, I did," Alexis breathes, twisting in his girlfriend's direction. Rick settles her back on her feet, releasing her to face Kate. "But I got a reminder that work can wait for a few days."

"Surprise," Kate singsongs from beside him, tugging her lip between her teeth for a second before stepping up to brush a kiss to his cheek. "I didn't overstep, did I?"

"Did – are you kidding? Kate," he sputters, ignoring any remaining sense of subtlety in favor of pulling her close, kissing her hard. Her fingers flutter on his chest, closing around his lapels, keeping him near. Like he would go anywhere.

"I love you," he breathes against her lips, palming her cheek as she whispers it back. "Hi, by the way."

Kate flushes. "Hey. Now are you glad I sent you home early? Otherwise you would've spoiled the surprise."

"Immensely. You really blew my mind." Rick catches her hand as she steps back, hoping she can feel his gratitude in the squeeze of his fingers.

She returns the press before nodding to Alexis and his mother. "I'll let the three of you catch up, okay? I'm just going to grab some food and a drink. After the traffic to get here, I think I've earned a vodka and soda."

"We'll find you in a bit," his mother assures, answering before Rick has the chance to say exactly the same thing. Kate smiles, her fingers sliding free of his.

"Take your time," Beckett insists. "You see me far more often than you see Alexis."

Rick watches her slip away, her hips swaying in time with the music. She must feel his eyes on her, because Kate turns as she makes it to the buffet, waving him off.

He turns back to Alexis, butting into the conversation she's started with his mother to scoop her up and spin her around again. His daughter laughs, patting his shoulders on the third revolution.

"Dad, dizzy."

"Oh! Oops, sorry, pumpkin," he laughs, lowering her down again. Alexis laughs, shaking her head in gentle exasperation. "Got excited because this is the best night ever."

His mother swoops in once Alexis is steady, wrapping her arms around both of them. "Isn't this wonderful? A new book for you, Richard, exciting things happening at the nonprofit for Alexis, sold out shows for me, and all of us together again."

Alexis squeezes them both. "It is, Gram. Congratulations, Dad."

Rick smiles, elation warming his cheeks. "Thanks, honey. Are you hungry? Did you eat on the plane?"

Her head shakes. "Just snacks. And Kate and I were running late, so we came straight here."

"Okay," he says, squeezing her once more. "Find somewhere to sit and I'll bring you a plate. Anywhere you like. I'll be right back."

"Dad," Alexis protests. "You don't need to serve me dinner. Shouldn't you be mingling or something? It is your night."

He waves her off, dropping a kiss to her hair. "I'm choosing to spend it with you. I'm just so glad you're here."

Her smile is almost shy when it touches her lips, but his daughter nods. "Me too."

"Good," he chirps, heading toward the buffet. "Now go sit. Sit."

Alexis agrees, looping her arm through his mother's. "Kay. And Dad?"

Rick stops, twisting to face her again.

She grins. "Can you see if they have my favorite? The meatballs?"

His head bows, joy coursing through his veins. He owes Kate so much for this. "Of course."

Due to a handful of fans and old friends stopping him to express their congratulations, it takes a few extra minutes to retrieve a plate for Alexis, but his daughter doesn't appear to be put out by the delay when he makes it to the low circular table and chairs she's grabbed. At first glance, his mother is nowhere to be found, but a quick survey of the room finds her schmoozing a distinguished-looking fellow by the door. Probably an executive for one of the newspapers.

"Okay," he breathes, sliding into the chair beside Alexis. "I grabbed everything I thought you would like, but if you want more, I can go back. They had both spicy and sweet meatballs, so I grabbed both."

His daughter chuckles, pushing a strand of dark hair – he has to admit, he still hasn't gotten used to that – behind her ear.

"Thanks, Dad. You didn't have to do that."

Rick grins. "I'll be mooching, too, I hope you know."

Alexis bumps him with her shoulder, her smile widening. "I had no idea."

He nods, feigning complete innocence. "Well, I've never mooched before, so it's clearly a new thing."

She rolls her eyes, but there's none of the annoyed frustration that had accompanied the gesture for so long. Instead it's just like old times. Teasing, fun.

"So," she starts once silence has settled between them.

"How've you been?" he asks at the same time, shaking his head at the gaff. "Sorry. Go ahead, honey."

His daughter laughs, shaking her head in return. "No, no. I didn't really know where I was going with that, to be honest. It was just starting to get weird."

"Oh," he chuckles as well, popping a carrot into his mouth. "In that case, I'll go first. How are you?"

Her brow furrows for a split second before she smiles. "I'm good, Dad."

"Yeah?" he asks, careful not to press too hard; he's pleased to be able read her face after so much time apart, but he can't alienate her with an interrogation. "Still saving the world?"

"Dad–" She bristles.

"I'm not poking," he's quick to assure her, reaching for her hand. "I am _so_ proud of what you do, Alexis."

She softens, allowing him to engulf her fingers with his own. "Thanks, Dad. I'm… sorry about that."

Rick shakes his head. "No, you don't need to apologize. I know how I came off before… but I'm behind you all the way, pumpkin. I am."

Alexis nods, releasing a breath. "Thanks. But maybe we should talk about this later? Your party's probably not the place to get into the heavy stuff, don't you think?"

She has a point. He offers her an easy smile – or what he hopes is an easy smile. "You're right, you're right. Serious stuff has been tabled. How's everything else? Has it been as hot out there as it's been here?"

"The weather?" she teases, nibbling on a meatball. "Really?"

He lifts a shoulder. "Gotta start somewhere, might as well start small."

"What happened to 'go big or go home' being your motto?"

"Had to grow up a little sometime," he murmurs, quirking a smile when she looks up.

"True," Alexis hums. She nods slowly, looking thoughtful. "But not too much, I hope."

Emboldened by what she isn't saying, the hope that he hasn't changed too much, Rick scoffs. "Come on, this is me we're talking about."

His daughter grins. "Good point. The weather's been hot, yeah. It's been hard to keep the community garden I've been managing alive, but hopefully it'll settle down soon."

He nods. "Hopefully. Is it a big garden?"

Alexis brightens. "Oh, it's huge. We had a beautification event the other day, and so many people came to help, Dad. It blew me away. Here, I can show you some pictures, if you want."

He agrees, eager for the glimpse into her life, her work. Alexis grins, digging through her bag for her cell phone. He watches her tap her password and pull up her photo gallery, trying not to peek at the thumbnails as she locates the right starting point.

"Okay, this is the view from the back of the garden, facing the entrance," she explains, turning the phone over to him. "You can scroll through them and see the rest – to the right, yeah."

He thumbs through the photos, taking in the smiles on everyone's faces, asking questions when he's not quite sure what he's looking at. Alexis takes it in stride, answering everything and sharing stories about the garden.

"It looks great, pumpkin. I can tell you've put a lot of hard work into it."

Her cheeks darken, but her smile blossoms with pride. "Thanks, Dad. We're trying to get another one started in the next month – October's perfect for planting lettuce, kale, broccoli, stuff like that – but I'm afraid we might get held up."

"What would keep you from being able to do it?" he asks, lifting his head when a firm hand lands on his shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt, Richard, but can I borrow you quickly? I want to introduce you to someone," Gina says.

"I–well–" he hedges, turning back to Alexis.

She waves him off. "Go, Dad. This is your night. I'll be fine for a few minutes, I swear. Hi, Gina."

His ex-wife's posture relaxes, her voice losing its all-business clip. "Hi, Alexis. It's good to see you."

Not for the first time, he's grateful that, despite the problems he and Gina have had with one another over the years, she's never taken it out on Alexis.

"You, too." Alexis smiles quickly, patting his arm. "Go on, Dad. I'll get a drink and meet you back here in a little bit."

"If you're sure," he murmurs, standing when she pushes at his shoulder, groaning for him to go. "In that case, I'll be back."

Alexis waves as Gina draws him away, and he watches his daughter wait a beat before moving to the bar.

He spots Kate on his way back from making the rounds, taking a moment to marvel at her; the lines of her body in that gorgeous blue cocktail dress, the curl of her hair on her shoulders, the open, soft smile on her face. His fingers twitch at his sides, warm with the urge to trace the delicate bones at her collar, to tease his initials over her arms, to tug her against him, fitting her back to his chest, her hips into the cradle of his.

She turns, dragging her teeth along her lip, her eyes blazing a lazy trail from his head to his feet. He's no stranger to being the subject of her perusal, but tonight it floods his belly with want, makes his blood sing.

Kate reacts first, closing the distance between them and offering him a lopsided, almost shy smile.

"Well hello, Mr. Castle."

Rick grins, playing along for the moment. "Captain Beckett. How are you enjoying the party?"

One shoulder lifts. "Nice buffet, good selection at the bar, interesting people to talk to – not too bad, if I can offer my honest opinion. Not as flashy as I would've expected, but I think it suits you this time."

"Mmm, very good. Did you grab a book?"

Her eyes soften at the question, sending his heart stumbling. She's seen the dedication, has read the glimpse into his head and his heart. Without a word, she steps closer, presses her mouth to his, all trace of their playful 'almost-strangers' game gone.

"I love you," she says, whispering against his lips to keep the words contained, just for them. "And that dedication gives me far too much credit when you did all the work."

"No," he argues, thumbing her shoulders. "Kate, I meant every word and more. And after the way you surprised me tonight? The way you got Alexis here? I need ten more books, at least, to express what you've done for me."

She hums a denial, resting her forehead against his cheek. "How's Alexis? Did you guys get your picture made yet?"

His fingers slip down her arms, fumbling to take her hands. "Not yet. I haven't asked. I got pulled away while we were talking, but she's good. I was on my way back when I saw you."

"Ogled me," Kate interjects, grinning.

"Says the woman who ogled me right back," he teases, taking a nipping kiss from her mouth. She tastes like champagne and sunset, and Kate lists into him, only to pull away a moment later.

"Mmm, not here," she murmurs, dragging her tongue over her lower lip. "I think we've put on enough of a show for tonight."

She's probably right. They've always been subtle in public when it comes to their relationship (with a few notable exceptions, of course), even going as far as to avoid confirming anything during the book press earlier in the summer, but tonight has no doubt ended any remaining speculation as to what they are.

He's not exactly upset by that, but he knows Kate appreciates a bit more anonymity, the ability to fly under the radar.

"Come on, Rick. You should get back to Alexis and your mom."

"We should," he agrees, thumbing her knuckles. "You don't have to make yourself scarce, Kate. Come sit with us."

She hesitates. "I don't want to intr–"

"We wouldn't be here if not for you, Beckett. That's the opposite of an intrusion. Besides, you can be there to kick me if I start to put my foot in my mouth with Alexis."

Her head tilts, a soft smile touching her lips, her hands squeezing his in reassurance. "You won't."

"Still," he tries again, not wanting to see her walk away to mingle by herself again. "Just in case I do."

Kate rubs his thumb. "Okay, okay. But if you want time to yourselves, just tell me."

That's not going to be necessary; he wants time with all of them. His daughter, his mother, and this remarkable woman. But he nods anyway, promising to let her know if hell happens to freeze over.

His girlfriend accepts that, reaching over to lift a glass of champagne from a passing server before she steps forward with him.

"Let's go."

Rick exhales, cupping her hand in his, grateful once again for the opportunity to spend the rest of the evening with her and the rest of his family.

And when a photographer approaches to get pictures, they greet him with easy smiles and nods of acquiescence.

* * *

To save his sanity, he doesn't look at the initial reviews for _Heat Wave_ , and nobody in his house mentions them. Even his mother is mum on the subject, preferring to regale them with tales of her upcoming events instead of teasing him about the new book the way she used to. He suspects that people have good things to say though, judging by the secretive smile his girlfriend wears when she comes for dinner the night after the book is released.

To say he's surprised when Alexis suggests staying a few extra days is an understatement, but Rick jumps at the opportunity to spend more time with her. He misses the precinct, of course, and asks for updates on the case he's been following (along with generally annoying Kate because he can), but the days following his book release are spent at home with his daughter, catching up on her life, and showing her how much has changed for the better in his.

The day she leaves, he finally musters the courage to ask Alexis what she thinks of Kate. They've gotten along so far, sharing easy laughter most of the time, but Castle knows his daughter's capacity for playing along if she thinks it makes him happy, and he wants to know her true opinion.

He holds his breath waiting for her answer, but his daughter doesn't crush his hopes.

"I like her, Dad," she says as they stroll toward the security checkpoint at JFK, tossing the final bite of her formerly towering ice cream cone into her mouth. "She's very smart. She's funny. She's nice, but she's not _so_ nice that you just know it's all an act. She's good for you."

"You think so?" he asks, standing straighter at her words. Alexis eyes him, no doubt studying his reaction, but simply nods.

"Yeah, I do," she assures. "And it's obvious she loves you. I was worried when you first started telling me about her that it might be…"

"Another one of my moments?" he supplies, watching her grimace and lower her chin.

"Yeah," Alexis says quietly, a hint of shame lurking in the depths of her eyes when she lifts her head. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to bring up that stuff again."

Castle shakes his head. "No, I know. I know. I hadn't exactly given you any reason to believe differently when I first told you about her, about us, either."

His daughter leans into him, careful not to jostle the remainder of his ice cream. "I believe it now," she promises. "She's crazy about you, Dad. You should see the way she watches you when you're not looking."

Rick chuckles. There's nothing like witnessing the blush that spreads along Kate Beckett's cheeks when she can't quite school her face and pretend she hasn't been gazing. Still, knowing Alexis can see it too…

"You do the same with her, you know," his daughter adds, grinning up at him. "Every night this week, any time she got up, you looked a little star struck when you watched her go. It was sweet."

This time it's his turn to blush. But Alexis just shakes her head.

"It's good, Dad. And I'm glad I got to be here to see it, and you. I'm really proud of you."

Unable to speak around the lump in his throat, Rick practically trips over his own feet in his haste to find somewhere to set his ice cream cone down and bear hug his daughter. Alexis puffs a laugh into his shoulder, squeezing him without protest.

"I'm so proud of you, too, Alexis. And I'm so happy you were here this week."

"Me too," she whispers, banding her arms around his waist. He sways, resting his cheek on his baby bird's hair, hating the moment he'll have to let her go to fly from the nest again. "Do you think I can come back again soon?"

He holds her tighter. "I think you can come back whenever you want, and stay as long as you'd like. A few days, a week, a month, forever. I'm not picky."

Alexis laughs, and it almost manages to hide her sniff. He doesn't say a word; he just rubs gentle circles on her back.

"Okay," she exhales. "Maybe a weekend in a few weeks? And then Christmas? I can't do Thanksgiving, I'm volunteering again this year, but–"

Rick touches his lips to her forehead. "I'll bring your favorite Christmas decorations out of storage. We can decorate together."

Alexis grins, lifting her head from his chest. "Sounds great."

He can only grin in return. "Yeah it does."

They both sigh when the reminder alarm on her phone sounds. Alexis squeezes him one more time before stepping back and adjusting the bag on her shoulder.

"Time to get back to the grind."

Rick nods, looking around to make sure they haven't dropped anything. "Call me when you land?"

"I'll let you know when I make it home, since it could still take a while to get out of the airport and back to Mom's."

"Fair enough," he agrees. "And you know you can text me if you get bored at the gate."

She laughs. "I know, Dad. If I get bored, I'll text."

He smiles. "Good. I love you."

"I love you, too," she says, stepping up to kiss his cheek. "Say hi to Kate for me. I hope her meeting went well."

Rick nods, sneaking a final hug in before his daughter has to go. "I will, pumpkin. And I'll see you soon."

Alexis nods, moving to join the ever-growing line at security. "See you soon," she calls over her shoulder.

He waits until she passes through the metal detectors and disappears before walking away. As heavy as his heart is watching Alexis leave, he has somewhere important to be, someone amazing to thank.

* * *

Although Kate's eyes are closed and her breathing is easy, her lips lift with every gentle swipe of his fingers along the smooth, bare skin of her back, telling him her body may be worn out, but she's not sleeping beside him.

"You're thinking hard," she observes a few minutes later, breaking through the easy silence that sometimes follows their lovemaking.

Rick watches her peek an eye open, a little bleary, but alert, and swoops in for a kiss.

"Trying to come up with another way to thank you," he says, keeping his voice light.

Kate's mouth curves under his. "You don't think what we just did counts as a thank you?"

Her fingers scurry across the space between their bodies, slipping over his hip to pat his ass. He huffs a laugh at her gentle pinch.

"Well, yes. I do. But I'm also thinking maybe a thank you part two."

She chuckles, a low, mirthful sound that sends a thrill down his spine. "Mmm, more like part four."

"But who's counting, right?" he teases, taking another kiss from her mouth, a little more insistent than the one before. His girlfriend hums, twisting in the sheets to urge him closer, drawing his weight across her body. She arches underneath him, pressing her breasts to his chest, curling her foot around his calf.

"No more counting, just kissing," she orders, slipping her hand into his hair, her nails teasing his scalp.

"Mhmm, no more counting," Rick concedes, teasing his fingers over the baby soft skin at the back of her knee. "Though maybe not _just_ kissing."

Kate hums her agreement into his mouth, holding him close as he makes good on his promise to show his gratitude once again.


	20. Chapter 20

**Our Best Selves - Chapter Twenty**

* * *

"So what's Kevin's deal?"

A laugh falls from her lips before she can lock it down. The question itself isn't funny, really, but the way he asked reminds her of gossiping with Maddie in high school. "What do you mean 'what's Kevin's deal'?" she asks, marking her page before turning to face her companion.

Instead of answering right away, Rick runs a finger along the arch of her foot, chuckling at the undignified squeak she releases.

"Castle," she chides, tucking her toes underneath his thigh, out of his reach. "What are you talking about?"

"You mean you haven't noticed?" he asks. His arm settles across her thighs, wrapping around her bent knees, keeping her from fidgeting, keeping her close to the warmth of his chest. It isn't the most comfortable position, but she relaxes into him regardless.

Kate shakes her head. "Noticed what?"

"He's just acting weird. Working later than I've seen him work in a while. This week he's been fidgety, out of it. Esposito had to call him five times to get his attention earlier today. It started just after the book party."

Beckett frowns a bit, trying to recall Ryan's demeanor since Castle's book launch. She hasn't noticed anything too glaring over the past few weeks, but then again, she isn't with him most of the day the way Castle and Espo are. He had seemed a little bit tired a few days ago, but he and Esposito had also spent most of the night before that sitting on a suspect's place, so she had assumed he would bounce back after having a day off. Apparently not, if Rick says he's still seeing it.

"He's… since the book party? Are you sure?"

Her boyfriend nods.

"Do you think he's okay?" she asks, sitting up.

Rick's palm slides along her leg, his thumb brushing the ridge of her kneecap. "It doesn't seem like he's sick or hurt, so I think physically, he's okay. Maybe he just has a lot on his mind and needs a vacation."

That does nothing to reassure or convince her that things are actually okay with her detective, her friend. "Has he said anything about Jenny lately? You don't think they're having problems again, do you? Because last time he–"

Castle laughs indelicately, cutting her off. "Kate, he talks about her all the time. 'Jenny and I are doing this next month. Jenny and I are doing that this weekend. Jenny was telling me about this thing last night.' So I think they're okay. But oh! Did you know they take turns making each other warm honey milk when they can't sleep?"

She chuckles, resting her cheek on his arm. "Knew that. He let it slip years ago when they were first dating. Javi teased him about it for months, called him 'honey milk' whenever he wanted to get a rise out of him."

"Yeah, I can see that. Do you think it's too late to bring that one back?" he muses, offering her a playful smirk when she glances up.

"Probably, but you can always give it a shot."

Her boyfriend flexes his fingers, splaying wider on her knee. "This is a challenge I think I have to accept."

"Uh huh," Kate grins. "Let me know how that works out for you, buddy."

"Yeah, you'll have a front row seat, I'm sure. And popcorn."

She laughs again, settling her cheek on his shoulder once more. "Probably, yes. It beats dealing with the brass hands down."

He grins. "I bet. That is one of the better parts of not actually being a cop."

She doesn't dignify that with a response, instead turning back to the novel she had abandoned with his initial question.

"But hey," Rick murmurs a minute later, causing her to mark her page again. "I'll keep an eye on him, okay? Ryan."

"Okay," she agrees. "Thank you. I just, I need to know if he's okay, or if he's overworked and it's… I don't want what happened before to happen again."

Rick's fingers touch her face, soft enough to have her lifting her eyes to his. His thumb makes broad strokes over her chin. "Kate, that wasn't your fault. You'd just made captain; you didn't know what you were getting into."

"And I left my guys, my team, hanging out to dry. I should've fought harder to get another detective assigned, I should've made sure they knew they didn't have to sacrifice their lives because I had, something. Instead I didn't do any of that, and Ryan and Jenny's relationship fell apart." She sighs, dropping her forehead to the bony jut of his shoulder.

Her boyfriend twists, his arms curling in a welcoming circle around her. "That wasn't your fault. You didn't personally set out to cause their relationship to stumble, Kate. You were doing your job the only way you knew how, that's all. Was it the best way? Maybe not, but you know that now. And think about how much different it is this time around."

She doesn't look at him, but she does allow herself to listen.

"You have years of experience now," he continues, his lips close to her hair. "You've found balance as a boss. And you have a ruggedly handsome partner to help you find balance on a personal level."

Her lips lift; had they met when she was a detective, he no doubt would've adopted that title as his own in every capacity. At work and at home. Well, as much as she would've let him back then, especially if he'd approached her the way he had at the charity auction. Still, a touch of wistfulness trickles through her system; how much more time could they have had together if they'd met sooner?

"Partner, huh?" she clears her throat, works the 'what ifs' away. "How is it that you're my partner when you're playing with the boys and giving me pep talks, but not so much when there's paperwork?"

Rick chuckles. "I'm always your partner, Beckett. But I can't do a captain's paperwork, that's horribly against protocol."

Kate rolls her eyes, but snickers with him anyway. He's not wrong, but leave it to him to choose that rule to obey.

He sobers a moment later. "My point is that you're leading by example, Kate. You work your ass off every day, but you still make time for your personal life. Which means your people do, too. So if – and that's a big if – for whatever reason, Kevin and Jenny's relationship doesn't work out this time around, that isn't on you."

Rick's mouth slides across her brow, comforting and sweet. "Ryan knows nobody is in his corner more than you are, Kate. Javier knows the same thing; he hasn't figured his stuff out yet, but he knows you're there, too."

She nods, allowing his words time to work their way into her head, to spread over her worries like a blanket and calm her fears.

"Thank you," she whispers, lifting her hands between them, cradling his jaw. "That helps."

"You got it, Kate. Because nobody's in your corner more than I am."

Whispering a kiss over his lips, she replies, "Me too, babe."

Rick smiles against her mouth. "I know. Now come on, I think we should indulge in a bubble bath to help us unwind before bed."

That sounds amazing. Already she can feel the curl of the steam, the lap of the water over her breasts, Castle at her back. Her skin tingles at the phantom sensation of his fingers drifting over her arms, his mouth at the curve of her neck.

"That sounds perfect," she hums, allowing him to tug her from the couch and into his bathroom.

Her book and her concerns are forgotten for the rest of the night.

* * *

Over the next few days she keeps a careful eye on her friend, noticing that Castle's observations had been at least partially correct. Kevin does seem preoccupied, but not distressed like she had expected when her boyfriend brought it up. If anything, he seems happier in his distraction than he had before. She does ask to see him, though, just to touch base and find out what's going on in his head.

"Hey, Cap," he greets, tapping on the door as he strides into her office. "What's up?"

Beckett smiles. He seems to be in good spirits. Looks rested, even though he had stayed an extra few hours last night.

"I just wanted to see how you're doing. The last few weeks have been pretty crazy with Castle's book coming out and your cases and everything."

Ryan's smile deepens. "Every week is pretty crazy. So same old, same old."

She can't help but chuckle at that. He has a point; their lives are rarely slow. "True. But, you know, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Noticed you were working a little longer lately."

His cheeks darken. "How'd you–"

"Duty roster," she explains, lifting a shoulder. "You filled in for Stegner, and then for Espo and Eldin twice?"

"Ahh, yeah. I should've mentioned that to you. Stegner's kid had a fever, so it was kind of last minute and I was still here finishing up paperwork. I just wanted Espo to owe me a favor."

"And Eldin?" she asks, watching something odd flash across his face as he shifts his weight. Instead of waiting for his answer, she presses on, "You're putting in a lot of OT, Kev. Everything okay at home?"

This time he really does blush, lowering his head to hide it from her. "I'm going to propose to Jenny. The OT… it's just to help make the payments on the ring easier. Start off with a little more cushion, you know? Since I'm still sitting on the list for sergeant."

Her arms wind around him, an excited laugh falling from her lips. "Oh my god, you're going to propose! That's so – I'm so happy for you."

Ryan laughs, squeezing her tightly. "Thanks, Beckett. I haven't decided when I'm going to do it, but I just don't want to waste more time. I knew she was the one before… there's no reason to wait now."

She nods, squeezing his shoulders once more before releasing him. "Okay, okay what do you need?"

"Nothing," he laughs, shaking his head. "Nothing really. Just maybe another few nights to pad my next paycheck."

"I can see who's asking for time off in the next few days, put you down for their shifts if they haven't found someone to cover already?"

Ryan nods. "That'd be great, Cap."

Kate smiles, reaching out to squeeze his arm. "Okay. But I don't want you working so much it hurts things with Jenny. That would be kind of counterproductive, after all. Ironic, but counterproductive."

Her friend laughs, giving her an easy nod. "That's true. In that case, maybe not every shift that's still open."

"Uh huh. I'll see what I can do. What do you have on your plate right now?" she asks, switching gears a bit.

"Waiting for financials to come back on the Mitchell case. Also hoping to catch Judge Stevens to sign our warrant for Diaz, but his office says he's in the middle of a trial right now."

She nods. "Give his office another call. Maybe they can catch him between sessions and get him to sign it."

"Will do, boss." He smiles, tilting his head. "Anything else?"

"Yeah," she hums, "take Jenny to lunch and ask her to marry you already."

Kevin gawks at her.

"I mean it," Kate insists. "You have the ring already, right? You're just paying it off?"

He nods, still eyeing her like she's grown another head right in front of him. "Yeah, I picked it up the other day."

"Then why wait?" She lifts an eyebrow, settling back against her desk, clasping her fingers and resting them on her thigh. "Sure, it's a bit spontaneous, but you're ready."

Her detective grins, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Careful, Cap, you're starting to sound a lot like Castle," he teases, causing her cheeks to burn. She does sound like Rick.

After a moment, Kate shrugs. "I'm just rooting for you guys. I always have been. And besides, Castle would suggest something ridiculous like a helicopter ride over Manhattan, or proposing in the middle of a bungee jump, just to make a statement."

Ryan laughs. "Now you really need to stop thinking like him. That's almost scary."

"Tell me about it." Her lips twitch. "I mean it, though. I know you're probably wracking your brain, searching for something just right, but most girls prefer something a little more intimate."

It's what she would want. A moment just for the two of them; something soft, personal, her future groom's hand in hers, his heart shining in his eyes. Her name on his lips, spoken the way it is each morning when they wake and he brings her a coffee and kisses her to greet the day.

"Thanks, Boss," Ryan says, yanking her from her thoughts – her hopes? When had she started envisioning that for herself? "I'll keep that in mind."

She nods, smiling through her uneasiness. "Good. And if you don't want ask today, just eat. Relax. Don't burn yourself out."

"Yeah, you're right. I'll do that. I'll make that call first though," he assures, reaching for the door.

"Thanks. Keep me in the loop on that."

Ryan nods. "Will do."

Her eyes follow him out, watching him speak to both Esposito and Castle before he reaches into his desk drawer, grabs his coat, and heads out with a wave. Her cheeks flush again when her boyfriend gets to his feet, loping toward her office.

Oh God, she was just thinking about marrying him.

"Hey," he greets, sticking his head into her office. She can't help returning his lopsided smile, hoping her thoughts aren't written all over her face.

"Hey."

"Ryan just ducked out to have lunch. Want to do the same?"

"I," she hesitates, glancing down at the files on her desk. "I shouldn't." She offers him an apologetic smile. "Not if I want to get out of here at any point this evening."

He nods, accepting her answer. "You want me to bring something back?"

"Ahh, no thanks. I'm just going to work through this stuff and hopefully be done in time for an early dinner."

Rick's smile slips a bit as he eyes her. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just didn't quite realize how much work I actually had until I looked at it." It's not a lie; she has a metric ton of work to do. She's just also…

Quietly freaking out over the thought of marrying him. Which is absurd, since she hadn't even given it a thought before now, and he hasn't shown any indication that he's anywhere near considering it either. But here she is, breathing through a catch in her chest as she contemplates what his proposal would be like.

"Well, that settles it; I'm bringing you brain food. M&Ms, gummy bears, and a milkshake."

Kate laughs, shaking her head – as much at herself as at him. "I'm not sure that constitutes brain food, Rick. But it does sound good."

Her boyfriend grins. "Coming right up."

The kiss he gives her a little while later is sweet with the flavors of their candy and milkshakes, as well as his own affection for her. Kate exhales, palming his cheek, keeping him close long after propriety and professionalism tells her she should nudge him away.

"Come over when you're done here?" he asks, thumbing her sides.

She nods. He doesn't often ask anymore; it's more implied that she'll meet him at his place if he leaves the precinct before her, but maybe her earlier weirdness has made him hesitant to assume.

"Mhmm," she confirms. "Want me to bring dinner? Spare you from cooking for me again?"

His lips turn up. "I like cooking for you."

"I like when you cook for me. But still," she starts, dragging her teeth over her lip, "why don't I return the favor tonight? I'll grab some stuff at the store and make dinner for you."

It's the least she can do after earlier.

Rick shakes his head. "You don't have to, Kate."

"I want to," she argues, lifting her chin in defiance. "So I'm gonna."

He chuckles, brushing his mouth over the swell of her cheek. "Okay. I can accept your terms."

"I appreciate your magnanimity," she drawls, tapping his chin with a finger when he gawks. "Go home and write, Rick. I'll be there in a couple hours."

Castle nods. "That's so hot. Okay. Just let me know if you want me to run to the store to spare you the hassle."

"I will, babe." She shoos him out before more of her day is spent making soft eyes at him when she should be working.

* * *

Two days later, Ryan brings Jenny into the precinct at the end of his lunch break, both of them giddy and grinning.

"Guys," Kevin calls, drawing Kate out of her office with Castle in tow. "We've got an announcement to make."

Kate feels her chest flutter with joy for them. He asked. He must have asked. His body language screams it.

Ryan bounces, curling his arm around Jenny's shoulders once a small crowd has formed. Jenny beams, pressing her cheek to his jacket, practically glowing. "We're engaged. We just got engaged."

Jenny thrusts her hand toward their group, a choked laugh escaping when she's wrapped in bear hugs a moment later.

Emotion pricks at Beckett's throat, but she forces it back. "Oh, I'm so happy for you," she breathes. "Congratulations. Your ring is beautiful."

"Thank you, Kate," Jenny says, returning her hug with an equally tight embrace. "Kevin said he would've still been brainstorming proposals if not for you."

Kate laughs, shaking her head. "I just mentioned to him that simpler is sometimes better."

"It as good advice," Jenny agrees, squeezing her once more. Kate returns the affection, looking over her shoulder just in time to catch the thoughtful look on Rick's face before it becomes a broad smile as he slaps Kevin on the back.

Her boyfriend's eyes meet hers and her heart stutters at the naked adoration she sees in his gaze. He says a few words to Ryan before skirting toward her, closing the distance between them. Kate watches his hand dip into his jacket, and for a moment – as absurd as she knows the thought to be – she wonders if he's going to materialize a ring of his own. Instead, he brandishes a handkerchief, offering it to her with a soft grin.

"Thanks," she sniffs, swiping under her eyes.

Rick's smile deepens, but he doesn't say a word. Instead, his arm winds around her shoulders, his lips dusting the crown of her head as she ignores the fact that they're in the middle of her precinct and leans into him.

"So, not having problems," he murmurs, drawing a laugh from her throat.

"No," she says, giving his waist a gentle squeeze. "Working OT to pay off the ring faster."

He thumbs her shoulder through her shirt. "Ahh. I heard you stole my thunder with the helicopter idea."

Kate rolls her eyes. "I nixed that idea because it's absurd."

He gasps. "It's not absurd. It's exciting! It's a great proposal idea. Right up there with a hot air balloon ride."

"No it's not," she argues, looking up at him. "It's big and flashy, which probably means the divorce is doomed to be big and flashy, too."

Rick squints. "Yeah, okay, I'll give you that."

"Mhmm, so I think something big but still intimate is just fine."

"I think you might be right," he concedes, looking back at Ryan and Jenny. "They're so happy."

"Yeah," she breathes, still watching him. She doesn't comment on the flash of emotion in his eyes, or the way his fingers tighten on her shoulder. The flutter in her chest returns; this is going to be them one day. As terrifying and exhilarating as it is to contemplate, this is going to be them, without a doubt. "Yeah, they are."

Rick smiles, turning to her once more. "Well, Captain, think we'll be able to cut out early today to take them out to celebrate?"

Her lips lift. "We can try."

* * *

 _A/N: I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. Thank you, as always, for your wonderful, kind words, and all your support. And if you follow the Castle Season 9 project, an episode that I co-wrote with SeriesTherapy is starting tomorrow!_


	21. Chapter 21

_Thank you all so very much for your amazing love and support for this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter (and I hope you see it, thanks to ffnet's alert issues)!_

 **Our Best Selves Chapter Twenty-one**

* * *

Somewhere between talking menu options and tossing out possible activities for Christmas Eve – so far he's narrowed it down to holiday laser tag around the loft, card games, a reprisal of his mother's production of _The Nutcracker_ , and caroling by the piano – he realizes his girlfriend has gone from engaged in the conversation to staring blankly out the window behind her couch, her fingers wrapped around her mother's ring.

"Kate?" he asks, nudging her with his elbow. "What do you think?"

"Hmm?" She turns, guilt flaring in her eyes. "Sorry, sorry, I… whatever you want, babe. Works for me."

"It's your Christmas too," he reminds her, watching her back straighten. She exhales a moment later, dropping her shoulders, shaking her head.

"It's the first time in years that you and Alexis have been on good terms. I want you to do what you guys want to do. What you used to do. Don't worry about me."

Rick frowns. "That… what's going on, Kate?"

"Nothing," she says, sliding closer. Her cheek lands on his shoulder, hiding her face from his view. "Long day, that's all."

Well, that he can agree with; they'd been called to a grotesque crime scene well before dawn, had worked through lunch and dinner, and only trudged home an hour ago with soggy, cold take out in their hands. Still, she had seemed mostly fine before, tired but fine. She'd only tuned him out when he started to talk about the holiday, but maybe it is just the day catching up with her.

His fingers slip through her hair, rubbing gentle circles against her scalp. "We'll get the guy tomorrow," he promises, thinking back to the frustration that had started to line her mouth when the case stalled.

Kate sighs. "Yeah. Hopefully."

"Want to watch a movie?" he offers, moving to massage her neck as well. "Something mindless?"

His girlfriend hums, sinking deeper into his shoulder. "I don't think I can stay awake for two hours to watch something stupid."

"Something not mindless then?" he suggests, feeling her chest shake with her chuckle.

"No movie tonight, Rick," she says, lifting her head, offering her mouth to him. He doesn't need to be told twice, pressing a kiss to her lips that has her squirming against him.

"No movie," he agrees, breathless. "More kissing?"

That earns him a smile. "Definitely more kissing," Kate agrees, holding his cheek. "Among other things."

"I like other things too," he murmurs, sliding his hands under the loose t-shirt she wears, eager for the softness of her skin against his palms.

It's only after she loses the shirt entirely, straddles him, and tugs his lip into her mouth that he realizes she kind of seduced him into tabling the talk of Christmas for the time being.

* * *

A few days later, they're strolling through a grocery store for dinner items when he asks her again if there's anything she'd like to put on the menu for Christmas. He watches in surprise as her shoulders go rigid and her face blanks for a split-second before she smiles it away.

"I, no. No, there's nothing special I want. Whatever you were thinking is fine."

There it is again, the brush off. Last time it was "whatever you want," and now it's "fine."

"You don't exactly seem excited about this," he says, watching her hand brush her mother's ring through her shirt. She touches it when she's thinking sometimes, but he can't help but wonder if she realizes how often she's reached for it recently.

"No, it's not –" she drops her hand, swallowing. "What does Alexis like?"

"What do you like?" he counters, touching her elbow to keep her from continuing down the bread aisle ahead of him. "I'm cooking plenty for Alexis, but I want to know what you want to eat at Christmas dinner."

Kate sighs. "I don't know, Rick. I haven't given it much thought. Green beans, maybe?"

Green beans he can work with, though that's kind of a mundane answer. Maybe he'll be able to get something else out of her now that the ball is rolling. "What else? What do you usually have for dinner? Or dessert?"

Her jaw tightens, telling him he's unintentionally struck a nerve. "I don't," she says, simple and clipped.

She slips away, taking the basket from his hand before he has the chance to stop her. Rick follows her, catching up just as she tosses a package of _Naan_ on top of their other ingredients.

"What do you mean?" he asks, crowding behind her, closer than she likes, but there are other people within a few feet of them and he wants this conversation to stay between them as much as possible.

"Rick," she sighs. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Well we don't exactly have a lot of time to talk about it, Christmas is in just over two weeks."

"Then we'll talk about it in a week," she says, spinning toward the front of the store, obvious in her attempts to evade him. "I don't even know if I'll be able to do Christmas this year."

He stares at her back. "You don't know if you'll be _able_ to? You're the captain; of course you can! You did last year. Besides, you can't not be there: I already invited your dad."

Kate whirls, her eyes flashing hard emerald under the lights. "You did what?"

Rick's steps slow, but he doesn't stop. "It's Christmas. I invited your dad to family dinner."

"Without even asking me?"

"I just assumed–" he begins, thinking back to the call he'd made after Thanksgiving.

"Well you shouldn't have," she snaps, cutting him off. "Because my dad and I have – we do different things on Christmas."

He exhales. "Kate–"

"No," she cuts him off. "I know this year is special for you, Rick, and I'm so happy that it is, but Christmas is different for me and my dad. You shouldn't have gone to him without talking to me first."

"I would've loved to have talked to you first, Kate, but you _won't_ talk to me about Christmas at all. You've blown me off whenever I've tried. I brought it up before Thanksgiving, you told me to worry about that holiday first. I brought it up last week while we were at work, you had paperwork to do. I asked you the other night, you decided we should fool around instead. So when were you planning to talk to me? When would be a good time to discuss this?"

She sucks in a deep breath, shoving the basket into his hands. "Well it sure as hell isn't going to be tonight. I'm going home. Alone. Enjoy your dinner."

She stalks off without looking back.

"Kate!" he calls after her, momentarily forgetting his desire to avoid making a scene. As it is, a small audience has gathered as they've hissed at one another beside an end-cap of saltine crackers.

Dropping the basket, he skirts his way past other shoppers and out the door. Once he's on the sidewalk, his shoulders drop; his girlfriend is nowhere to be found. He doesn't even see the top of her head somewhere in the crowd. Damn it, she's fast.

Fishing his phone from his pocket, he debates sending her a text, but he suspects it'll go unread until she cools down. A phone call will get sent straight to voicemail at this point, too.

They've had other fights before, bigger fights even, but with the sound of a bell ringer in the distance and the strains of Christmas music coming from inside the store, somehow this one feels different.

Had calling her dad about Christmas dinner been that wrong? He's called Jim before, he's even invited Jim to things before, so how can Christmas be off limits? And how is this Christmas so much different from last Christmas, where they spent the day wrapped in each other, eating a low-key dinner with his mother?

Unless she… unless he's missed other signs, other signals, that point to it being more than just Christmas she isn't feeling anymore? Maybe keeping her distance is a signal of what's to come for their relationship?

His heart sinks even as he attempts to push the thought aside. He's being ridiculous. It's just a fight and a misunderstanding. Maybe she really doesn't care what they eat, maybe she just doesn't want to worry about Christmas just yet, maybe she does have to work this year since she didn't last year.

Whatever it is, it can't be the worst-case scenario he's imagining.

Can it?

* * *

He's standing at the stove, contemplating the tea kettle of all things when he hears Kate's key in the lock. She steps into the loft a moment later, her lip lodged firmly between her teeth, but she doesn't say a word as she slides out of her coat and knocks her Chucks from her feet by the door.

"Thought you said you were going home," he says for lack of anything better, only to cringe at how it sounds. "I would've saved you some dinner if I'd known," he adds in attempt at softening his words.

Kate shakes her head. "You're fine. I'm not all that hungry, to be honest. How was it? Dinner, I mean."

Rick lifts a shoulder. "Didn't make it. I left the store just after you did and stopped at Duane Reade for the shampoo I needed. Had leftovers instead."

"Ahh." She looks away, expanding her chest with a deep breath.

Rick takes the opportunity to study her, taking in the loose bun on her head, her favorite lounge pants, the maroon shirt she'd stolen from him last year. She clearly came over here after giving it some thought. Combining that with the downturn of her lips, the smudges of her make up around her eyes…

"I'm sorry," she says, turning back to him, catching him in his perusal. "I'm so sorry."

His guts roil with dread. Oh, he doesn't like where this is going. Not a bit.

"You were just being sweet and good and you, and I… I'm sorry."

"I," he starts, forcing himself to stand up straighter, hold his chin high. He loves this woman beyond reason, she's ignited a piece of his soul he'd once thought forever extinguished, but he can be brave, too, even if it means letting her have the first turn.

"This sounds stupid, but it's not you, it's–"

"Kate, stop." Apparently, his bravery only extends so far, and definitely not to hearing 'It's not you, it's me,' from the woman he's imagined asking to be his wife one day.

"–Christmas," she continues anyway, brow furrowing. "Christmas is hard for me, Rick. Really hard. And I thought I was…" she fumbles. "Last year made me – _you_ made me think I was ready, but then this year you started talking about turning this place into a winter wonderland, and having a massive spread for dinner, and inviting my dad, and I…"

"Wait," he tries again, this time trying to make sense of what she _is_ saying as her arms wrap progressively tighter around herself. Her fingers curl around her mother's ring once again. "You're not… just for the record, you're not breaking up with me?"

She looks up, dumbfounded. "What? No! Never. Oh, God, you thought – you think I'm breaking up with you? Over celebrating Christmas?"

He nods slowly, blinking when she releases a strangled, half-hysterical laugh. He lets himself go to her as her head thrashes from side to side, touching her shoulders with unsteady hands.

Kate steps into him, bracketing his chest with her arms, her face hiding in his neck. The touch loosens the knot in his chest, settles the stormy roll of his anxiety, and he bands his arms around her.

"Last year was only the third time since my mom died that I'd had Christmas, Rick," she confesses, touching her mouth to his skin. "The first time was the year after, it was just my dad and me, and we were… miserable. So just like we boxed up the decorations after she died, we did it again, only this time we left them there."

Oh, Kate. His head dips, bringing his ear closer to her mouth, making it easier for her to get through this.

"Every year after that, my dad has gone to his cabin for the holidays to get away from the city, and once I became a cop, I volunteered to work the Christmas shift to give everyone else the opportunity to spend time with their families."

"Sounds lonely," he murmurs before he can stop himself.

Kate hums, smoothing her hands over his back. "It could be at times. But there were times when it felt like I was a superhero, standing sentinel while the rest of the city took a moment to relax and find peace."

"Now that could be hot," he says, feeling her crack a smile. "You in a leather bodysuit, kicking ass and taking names. A Christmas avenging angel. Oh, I'd like to see that."

This time she does laugh, knocking a kiss along the column of his throat. "In your dreams."

"You've seen my life, Kate. My dreams come true."

She chuckles again, sobering a moment later.

"What was the second time?" he asks, cupping the back of her neck. "The second Christmas," he clarifies when she squirms to meet his eyes.

"After Montgomery – his wife invited me to spend the day with her and the kids. It was… they were like ghosts, Rick. Evelyn tried, but she told me later she thought maybe the next year they would just go on a cruise or something. Try to make new memories without everything of Roy hanging over them."

Her head lowers, tucking back into the haven of his neck. "And then last year with you. And it was good, it was so good. But it was just us and your mom, and we… kinda did our own thing. It wasn't like having Christmas thrown in my face."

"And this year, with Alexis coming home – plus me inviting your dad – feels more like the holiday you remember," he supplies, tightening his hold on her. "More like what you put away and avoid."

She nods. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have freaked out on you, or made you feel like I was going to break up with you," she adds, sounding more than a bit bewildered at the idea.

"Well I'm glad you're not," he murmurs. "I'm sorry I got caught up in it all. I didn't think about how hard it would be for you. Or for your dad."

"You didn't know. And I should've told you."

"Forgiven. Just tell me next time, please?"

She agrees quietly, lifting onto her toes to paint her lips over his, the kiss firm, resolute. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he says, palming her hip. Kate sucks in a breath, slipping her hand over the back of his head, keeping him close. "And I'll call your dad back and let him know there's no pressure if he'd rather not come. But I won't make it weird and like I'm rescinding the invitation, promise."

"What did he say when you asked?" she asks instead of an agreement, her curiosity obviously piqued.

"That it sounded good, and to let him know what to bring. He seemed excited."

Her eyes slip shut and he watches her face morph into an embarrassed grimace. "I am so sorry, Rick."

Dropping a kiss on her neck, he shakes his head. "You're protective of your father, Kate, especially around a painful time of year. I get that."

"Still." She touches his chin, pressing her mouth to his again. "I'll make it up to you."

There's a part of him that wants to ask if that includes coming to Christmas dinner, but he won't now that he knows what she deals with; there will be other years for him to lobby for making a new tradition, but not this time.

Which is why she surprises him when she curls her fingers the collar of his shirt and says she'll take the day off. She'll go in for the early part of Christmas Eve, but that night and Christmas day will be for him, them.

"Are you sure?" His fingers trail along her back. "Because Kate, you don't have to if it's going to be miserable for you. Neither does your dad."

Kate shakes her head. "It won't be. You won't let it be miserable for us."

She's right about that. "Very true," he says, nudging her nose with his. "I can always have my mother cause a scene and distract us if it gets tough."

His girlfriend laughs, looking up at him with soft eyes. "Okay. Now, can I make it up to you in a more immediate way?"

Rick pretends to think. "I could be persuaded."

"Allow me to make my case then." Kate grins, catching his mouth in a sharp kiss before taking a step back. His mouth opens to protest the loss of contact, but she hooks her fingers in his belt loops and tugs him toward his bedroom.

"Case made," he rumbles, reaching for her. "Make up sex me up, Kate."

She laughs, her nimble fingers already working at his clothes.

* * *

"Kate!" he calls, spilling from the elevator at the 12th precinct before the doors have even finished opening. Heads turn – many heads, at that – but he has eyes only for the captain's office and the woman scrambling into the bullpen.

"Castle?" she gawks, cringing as he nearly crashes into two of her officers. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" he swears, breaking into a smile. "Nothing at all. I just– excited. I'm excited."

His girlfriend laughs into her hand. "Okay, what's got you so excited? You weren't nearly this giddy when I left this morning."

He waves her off. "That's because it wasn't even daylight, Beckett. You left the house before dawn in the middle of January. Nobody should be giddy then."

"Mmm," she hums. "And now?"

He brandishes the file he'd slid under his coat to protect it from the cold, rainy day. "You remember that my publisher wanted to wait until the first few months of sales were in to make a decision about my next contract? Well, I went to Black Pawn today to look at the numbers."

Kate inhales sharply, her back straightening with it. "And?"

He thrusts the papers toward her, giving her just a half a second to consider what she's looking at before he cups her face in his hands and slants his mouth over hers. Kate puffs a laugh, more out of surprise than amusement he thinks, but doesn't push him away. Not until the first wolf whistle comes from a desk in Esposito's general direction.

"Three books, Kate," Rick says, watching her lick her lips. "They want _at least_ three more Nikki Heat books, with the option to renegotiate more along the way."

Her face splits open with pride, joy, and more than a little love. Her arms wind around his shoulders, her lips coming to touch his ear. "That's amazing! Congratulations, babe. Stripper name or not, the book is fantastic."

He chuckles, lifting her off her feet for just a moment before allowing her stilettos to touch the floor once more. "Told you it would grow on you."

She rolls her eyes, but she's grinning anyway. "It hasn't, but I can at least admit that it fits."

"Uh huh. You can admit it to me, Kate. It's okay."

She snorts, smoothing her hands along his shoulders instead of arguing.

"But you know," he muses, "I'll need to make sure I'm keeping things fresh, research-wise. I wouldn't want to write using old procedure."

"No," she starts, looking up at him, her lips twitching, "we wouldn't want that. Guess that means you're going to continue to come in."

He nods, grateful she's playing along. "Three books, though; I could be around forever."

"Thought you were already going to be around forever, Castle," she drawls, but the light in her eyes tells him everything he needs to know.

They're planning the same thing for their future. Her rushed 'never' the night they'd fought about Christmas means exactly what he'd thought it meant.

Of course, she blinks her tell away a moment later and steps back, smoothing her hand over her jacket. "In that case, guess you should tell the boys they're babysitting for a little longer."

Rick grins. "Of course. And once I do that, may I take you out to dinner to revel in our good fortune?"

Kate shakes her head, nudging him into her office before his face can fall. "Not tonight, but you can order takeout from our favorite place, and we can eat it after we're done celebrating."

Unable to resist, he pulls her closer. "I like that idea, but I'll do you one better. I'll cook your favorite dinner after the _festivities_. After all, this is happening because of you, Kate. I should treat you."

She shakes her head, affection lifting her lips. "I didn't do anything."

His lips touch hers again, less frenzied than before, but no less passionate. Kate looks as dazed as he feels when he pulls away, which only makes his smile widen. "I'm gonna go shopping for the stuff. I'll see you at home."

He leaves her in her office with a grin on her face not even the fan of her fingers can hide.


	22. Chapter 22

_Thank you all for your amazing, kind words on the last chapter. With ffnet's alerts down the way they were, I was so afraid the chapter wouldn't be seen at all last week, but you guys blew me away. Thank you so much._

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Twenty-two**

* * *

Lanie doesn't even look up when Kate steps into the morgue.

"So a little bird told me you had some excitement the other day. Care to share with the class?" her friend asks, never pausing her exam, but Kate sees the smile that spreads across her friend's lips.

Kate rolls her eyes, taking that as invitation to approach. "A little bird? More like a detective with a big mouth. What'd Espo say?"

Her friend grins. "Castle showed up excited, planted a kiss on you that would've probably earned a public indecency tag if you weren't in charge, said something about the books, and left."

Well, it's not an entirely inaccurate description, but– "I think I told Castle that I want to marry him."

Her friend lifts an eyebrow, but doesn't say a word, so she attempts to backtrack and start from the beginning.

"He was excited. He got official confirmation that his publisher is offering him a new contract, and he made a joke about how long it'll take him to write the books, said that's how long he'll have to stick around. Then I said I thought he was already sticking around that long," Kate exhales, waiting for Lanie to say something.

Instead of speaking, the other woman just laughs, shaking her head.

"What?"

"Honey, you say this like it's a shock that you want to marry the man. You've been halfway in love with him since the night you met."

Kate scoffs. "That is _so_ far from the truth; I was not even a little bit in love with him then. I didn't even like him then."

"Mhmm, just like you do not look at the guy like he hung the moon, and just like you have not been picturing the two of you in Ryan and Jenny's spot since the day Kevin proposed, and just like you do not practically live with him right now."

She squirms, trying to avoid looking away. "That's different."

Lanie snickers. "No, it's not. Now why are you freaking out? It's not like you said, 'Put a ring on it tonight, Castle. We're getting hitched.' You just made a joke. A joke I'm assuming he laughed at, and all was fine, right?"

"Well yeah, but… You don't think it's weird?" She drags her teeth over her lip, pushing her thumb into the meat of her palm. "To just blurt something like that out?"

"Oh, I think the two of you are plenty weird, but in this case, no. Because one, it was an off-hand comment – from him first, mind you – and two, if he had been feeling you out on the thought of forever, I think you gave him the right idea without being too much."

Kate sighs. "Really?"

Lanie rolls her eyes. "Well you didn't tell him to get lost, and you didn't immediately go out and buy a white dress, so yes."

"Okay, that's true, but–"

"Kate," Lanie interrupts. "Can you look me in the eye and tell me you don't see Rick Castle in your future? Five years down the road? Ten? When you're gray and still svelte and gorgeous while the rest of us are just droopy?"

She laughs. "You won't be droopy, Lanie."

"Don't change the subject. Do you?"

"I," she stumbles, allowing herself to picture that far ahead, to picture the years to come, and who she hopes to have by her side. Her friends, of course, and her father, maybe others, but ultimately Rick. Always Rick. "Yeah I do."

Lanie smothers a knowing smile. "Uh huh, I know you do. So don't overthink it. You love him, he loves you; let yourself be happy and you'll figure out the rest as you go."

It's good advice – assurance she could've used back at Christmas, really, when she almost blew up her relationship because the thought of having a true family holiday again terrified her – and Kate takes a deep breath to steady herself. "You're right."

Lanie smiles. "Free of charge. Next time requires wine and a dessert menu."

"Deal." She nods, tapping her fingers on her chin. "We should actually do that soon anyway. It's been so long since we've had a girls' night."

Her friend looks pleased. "My thoughts exactly. Now get out of here. Judging by that outfit, I know you have a celebration dinner at a fancy restaurant to get to with your man, and I'm not going to stand in your way."

"Mmm, probably for the best; he made my favorite the other night, but tonight he wants to go out." Her tongue pokes between her teeth and her shoulders give a thrilled little wiggle.

Lanie shakes her head. "Yeah, you didn't even need to come here. You just wanted to gloat about how happy you are. We can't all be so lucky."

Concern tugs at her. Lanie teases her often, but this taunt has more of a bite to it than usual. "Off again with Espo?"

"Off for good," Lanie says, lifting a shoulder. "Since before Christmas."

"Lane," Kate starts, stepping closer only to have her friend raise a hand in warning. Right. Dead body, post-mortem in progress. "What happened? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Nothing happened," her friend exhales. "Which was why, really. We're great together and it's fun, but I look at you and Castle, and I look at Kevin and Jenny, and that's never going to be us. And yeah, that's okay for right now, but I'm looking to the future, too."

"It could be you guys," she offers, feeling her heart sink a little deeper into her stomach. How had she missed the fact that her friends had broken up? "I mean you know Espo. He's Mr. Gruff Whatever on the outside, but-"

"I know," Lanie smiles quickly, looking back at her work. "But there are some things he just balks at. And at this point, he's gotta figure out why, and decide for himself if he can ever get past it. I don't want to miss my time for things because he's scared."

"Things like…"

"Rugrats, for one."

Her brow furrows. "You're thinking about kids? Really?"

Lanie chuckles. "Uh huh. Don't look so surprised. My mini-mes would be adorable."

"Your mini-yous would be terrors," she teases. "All sugar and sass. Just like their mama." She matches Lanie's smile before she continues, "I'm not judging, I was just surprised; I didn't know you were considering having kids."

Lanie shrugs. "Well it's not something I'm going to do tomorrow, but it's part of my five-year plan. And as much as I love Javi, I don't want to miss out on that because he can't get over his hang-ups."

Kate nods, tugging her lip between her teeth. "I hear you." It's a harsh, but honest assessment, and she can't help but squirm a little. Could the same be said of her and her hang-ups? Would Rick say that about her at some point? "Of course," she continues, changing the subject for her own peace of mind, "now I want to know what else is part of your plan."

"Well then, we definitely need to have a night out soon. Because I'm curious about what you're plotting for yourself, too. But not tonight. Shoo, Kate Beckett. Come to work tomorrow with a smile on your face."

With that, Lanie waves her off, telling her to say hello to Rick when she gets home.

* * *

He is a gorgeous man.

It doesn't come as a surprise to her, of course; she's more than aware of his physical attributes – the breadth of his chest, the curve of his lips, the flop of his hair over his forehead – but sometimes the simple fact overwhelms her.

She is in a relationship with a gorgeous man, _Richard Castle_ , no less. She wants to be with him for a long time to come, and she wants everything that comes with that. Provided he wants the same things.

Her heart tumbles in her chest, hope and terror rising in concert with one another. But she can only scoot closer to him in his bed, lifting a hand to brush his cheek.

Rick hums in his sleep, turning into her touch. Kate can't help the smile that lifts her lips; his sleepy affection is cute too.

"Why're you 'wake, Kate?" he rumbles without opening his eyes. His fingers slip around her wrist, trailing clumsily down her forearm. She shivers at the gentle stroke of his fingertips. "Something wrong?"

"No," she says, closing the distance between them, touching her mouth to his. "Just looking at you."

"Mmm," he hums, leaning into the fingers that dust over his brow. "Sexy, huh?"

Kate chuckles, nudging her knee between his. He would fish for compliments in the middle of the night. "All right, I guess."

" _All right?_ " he gasps, his eyes popping open. She can't help but giggle at the scandalized look he's giving her. He is just so easy to tease, especially when he's half-asleep. "Just all right? After earlier, that's what you have for me? _All right_?"

Her hand coasts down his side, moving beneath the covers to scratch gently at his hipbone. His hips buck, rocking into her touch.

"Fine, more than all right," she concedes, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his jaw.

"Hmm," he rumbles, slipping his arm around her waist, rolling her onto her back. "Show you more than all right."

She laughs, palms his ass, offering her lips to him. "Do it," she urges, sealing her mouth to his. "Show me, Rick."

* * *

Nearly a week later, she again finds herself lying awake while Rick sleeps soundly beside her, his cheek mashed into his pillow, his fingers curled between them. He's wiped out – chasing a suspect will do that – but she's wide awake following a day of doing nothing but sitting in meetings at 1PP.

It doesn't help that she's had something on the tip of her tongue for days, but despite numerous opportunities for her to do so, hasn't quite managed to coax the words out of her mouth.

Professionally, she's never had any qualms about speaking her mind, saying what she wants, and making it happen. But outside of work… here she is, holding onto her words in case what she has to say upsets the status quo and ruins the happy balance of their relationship.

She can't help but wonder what her mom might say about it. How Johanna would tease her for being so timid when her feelings are so strong, her wants so definitive.

 _You've been with the man for almost two years, Katie_ , she imagines her mom saying, can practically hear the teasing lilt in her voice. _What happened to my impulsive girl, the one who jumped into everything with both feet?_

Of course, the impulsive girl is gone for the same reason she had spent the better part of a cold morning in the cemetery three weeks ago. The impulsive girl hasn't been around for a long time.

But she is trying. She's stopped digging trenches around the wall in her heart, she no longer fortifies it from the inside, she's given herself permission to stand at Rick's side and take a sledgehammer to the bricks with him. It's still a lot at times, but she tries.

And she wants this with everything she has. Even if it means rocking the boat.

She just needs a plan, a way of showing him where she wants them to go since the words won't come.

At four fifteen, she slides from bed, throws her robe on over her nightclothes, and pads to the office to read while she considers her options. She must doze after a while, because she wakes at ten after six to soft fingers on her cheeks and Rick's concerned gaze.

"Hey," he greets, pushing her hair away from her forehead. "Should I be worried about you sneaking out of bed to make time with another writer?"

She snorts, wiping the sleep from her eyes before closing Patterson's latest novel. "Yeah, you caught me; I'm writer crazy. Can't help myself."

He chuckles, but the joke isn't enough to distract him from studying her. He makes himself comfortable in front of her chair, scooping up her hand to play with her fingers.

"What's going on, Kate? You haven't been sleeping well lately."

"Just a lot on my mind, I guess."

He nods, kissing her knuckles. His eyes never leave hers, though, and the invitation to continue is obvious.

"Work," she murmurs, watching him nod in understanding. He'd listened for hours the night before as she ranted about 1PP's ridiculous mandates for the quarter. "Just trying to figure out how to make everything fall together and still keep morale up."

"Ping pong tournaments? Foosball?" Rick suggests, his eyes lighting up with each suggestion. "Oh, I got it! Office chair races."

Kate laughs, shaking her head. "Somehow I doubt that'll go over well with my bosses."

"Hmm, true," he agrees, looking thoughtful. He opens his mouth a minute later, asking, "Have you ever been to The Old Haunt? It was an old speakeasy that they turned into a bar. I used to write there before Alexis was born."

"I've been there," she murmurs, watching him grin. "For a case a few year ago, when I was still a detective. Saw your picture over one of the booths, too. You were so cute back then."

"Back then," he huffs, sticking his tongue out.

"Did you know there were underground tunnels that led into the basement?" she asks instead of taking the bait.

"Really?" he squeaks. "That's so cool, tell me about it."

"Mmm, I will, but I wanna hear this idea of yours first."

He nods. "Right. Well as you probably know, the bar was going under a few years ago, and the vultures at TJ McChucklenuts were circling, but then it got put on the historic register for New York–that was you?" he asks, squeezing her hand tighter when she grins.

"One of the results of our investigation," she explains, watching elation flutter across his face. "Couldn't let a place with that much history get turned into a cheesy chain."

"Oh, I love you," he says, heaving his body off the floor to kiss her mouth. "It's up for auction now, the bar, and I'm gonna buy it. So that's my idea – I buy it, fix it up, we can make it a special place for the 12th. What do you think?"

Holding his cheek, she nods. "I think that's an amazing idea, Rick. But how much do you think it'll go for? Can you afford it?"

He kisses the inside of her wrist. "It's cheap now, but it'll go higher."

"Then I'll go in with you," she says, pecking his mouth, urging him to slide onto the chair with her. "And before you say you can't ask me to do that, I'm offering. I have savings – not a ton, but if you think we can get the bar for a good price…"

His lips curve against hers. "I was just going to ask if you wanted to sleep on it. Deprivation does weird things to our brains after all."

"Quiet. I'm not sleep deprived. I just… I know the place is important to you, even from the little bit you just told me, and I thought it was cool too. So let's do it."

"You are incredible," he breathes, coming back for another kiss, pressing her against the cushions. "And I am so glad you're such a nerd."

Kate laughs, nipping at his lip. "Pot, meet kettle."

"No, that's why it's perfect," Rick says, gentling his grip on her waist. "It's what makes us work."

"Well, that and the sex," she quips, settling against him. Her boyfriend just grins, slipping his hand over her knee, moving higher under her robe.

"That, too. This is going to be great, Kate."

"Mhmm," she agrees, taking a deep breath. Her plan never came together before she dozed off earlier, but maybe she doesn't need a strategy. Maybe she just needs to ask. After all, they did just agree to buy a bar together. Theoretically they should be able to do this, too. "Rick?"

He drops his head, giving her his attention. His fingers continue to trace her knee, slipping a little higher up her thigh before retreating, but he's listening, she knows. "Yeah?"

"It's not just work. That I've been thinking about, I mean."

"Oh?" he twists, giving her his eyes too. "What else?"

She takes a deep breath. "Okay, I want you to know you can absolutely say no, and you can take all the time you want to think about it. There's no pressure here."

"But…" he prompts.

She hesitates. "And this is probably also your mom's decision, too," she adds, "since she–"

"Kate," he murmurs, cupping the back of her neck, getting her eyes. "Just say it."

"What if more of my stuff joined what's already here?" she blurts. "A lot more."

"A lot more," he repeats. Kate cringes; jeez, she should have made him breakfast, or at least coffee, before bringing this up. But she nods anyway. "For good, I hope?"

Her breath catches. He gets it. Thank goodness, he gets it.

She nods again. "That's what I'm hoping, too. If… that's what you want. And it doesn't have to be now," she adds, attempting to sit up. She is botching this, isn't she? "It doesn't have to be immediately – like I said, you should probably talk about it with your mom since she pays half the mortgage, but–"

"Kate," Rick interrupts, his chest shaking under her shoulder with his laughter. "I don't need to think about it. You had me at more of your stuff joining mine."

Her forehead lands on his, as much in attempt to conceal her rosy cheeks as it is in affection. "Are you sure? Do you need time to sleep on this? It's six am and I'm basically inviting myself into your home long-term, I understand if you want to take more than ten seconds to consider it."

"I've been thinking about it since probably September, maybe earlier, but even more so after we fought at Christmas," he says, getting her eyes. "When you walked off in the store, you said you were going home, and yet just a little while later, you let yourself in here. _Home_."

She hums. "I went to my place, showered, and changed, but when I sat down on the couch to stew, I just didn't want to be there anymore. I wanted to be mad at you where you were."

A smile she can't help but kiss bloom on his face. "I'm glad you did," he murmurs, slipping a hand through her hair. "You've helped this place feel more like my home than it has in years; I want you to make it your home – our home."

Kate nods, brushing a hand down his cheek. "Me too."

"And not just because your taste is so much better than my mother's," he continues, grinning against her mouth. "But it is, for the record. So if you want to change anything – pillows, the couches, the drapes, everything – I am behind you one hundred percent."

"Okay," she agrees, laughing into his kiss. "We'll see."

"Good enough," Rick concedes, pulling her closer. Contentment rushes through her veins, floods her system, and she buries her face in his neck. Her boyfriend hums, turning his cheek to rest against her hair.

"Make you coffee?" she asks finally. "Since I woke you up this early and decided we're going to be living together, it's the least I can do."

Rick laughs, pressing his mouth to the curve of her jaw. "Coffee later, back to bed now. I think a nap – among other things – is in order before we tell Mother the good news."

"And before I start packing," Kate adds, grinning as she gets to her feet.

"We're hiring movers for the hard part," he insists, squirming off the chair, his hands delving under her robe once again. Kate arches into his hands, lifting onto her toes to bring him closer.

He lifts her off the ground, his arm tight around her waist. Her ankles lock at the small of his back, securing her to him for the short distance to the bed – their bed.


	23. Chapter 23

_Keeping my notes short and sweet today, I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

 **Our Best Selves - Chapter Twenty-three**

* * *

"Okay, that is the last of it."

Forcing herself upright, Kate can only groan in response. They've been working since dawn, packing up the last of her belongings, directing one set of movers toward the pile of boxes to go to the loft and the other toward the things to go to the storage unit, and she is exhausted.

Everything aches, her stomach stopped growling hours ago and has moved to quietly devouring itself, and right now she wants nothing more than to flop down on the couch – her couch which, thankfully, Martha had waved her hand and welcomed when the movers carried it into the loft – and shut her eyes until Chinese food is magically delivered.

But she has at least another five or six boxes of books, papers, and knick knacks to empty before that can happen. Mercifully, Rick's announcement means the movers have finished bringing everything in, and will be on their way. They've been a good crew, putting up with her scatterbrain and need to oversee, but it'll be nice to have them head out.

She still has cleaning to do at her place, plants to rehome or just remove, and paperwork to take care of to sign off on the sublet, but as of now, she lives here. With Richard Castle.

Holy shit.

"Kate, you know you don't have to unpack everything tonight. Save some for tomorrow, or later, or whenever. There's no rush."

His hand touches her lower back, warm through her shirt, and she leans into the spread of his fingers. Even his touch feels different, which is silly because they've been practically living together since last summer, but she's not imagining the renewed frisson of heat, the coil of energy, even the pride in his gesture.

"I know," she exhales, dropping her head onto his shoulder. "But I'd rather get as much done as I can. There's no reason to have boxes hanging around forever, right?"

"Hmm, true," he agrees, fitting her back to his chest. "And there's always the promise of a bubble bath later to help work out the aches and pains."

"Of which there are many," she groans, forcing her eyes to open once more. It would be so easy to stop now and let the wall of his body lull her to sleep, but she won't. "You mind helping me? Two sets of hands will get it done faster."

His mouth brushes her cheek. "Of course not. Where do you want me to start?"

She considers the question, glancing at the options. "Let's empty this one, and then we can move into the office and deal with that stuff."

"Done," he promises, smiling against her skin. "Oh, speaking of office stuff, I cleared out the filing cabinet for anything you want to put in there, and there's room in the safe for your backup piece and other things you want to keep locked up."

"Thanks, babe." Lifting a hand, she squeezes the back of his neck. "We'll get it done faster this way, I promise."

He hums, taking a moment to sway with her before reaching into the box and unearthing her vintage _On Air_ sign. "Okay, let's find a place for this."

Kate nods, looking around, pleased to see more empty space on his shelves for her things. He'd made room for a few of her art pieces weeks earlier when they first agreed to move in together, but she's happy to not have to nudge him for more space.

Her eyes land on him once more, watching him slide her things onto the shelf beside his. She can't help but appreciate the way his back muscles work beneath his t-shirt as he moves. The view of his ass isn't anything to scoff at, either.

"Thought the goal was to have two people working," he teases, looking over his shoulder, catching her in the act of observing him. "But apparently, _someone's_ a little busy undressing me with her eyes to unpack."

"I am not," she scoffs, diverting her attention to the box in front of her once more. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to drop anything."

"Uh huh," he teases, stepping over to her. His hand slides over her back, curling around her hip. "Likely story. But that's okay, I'm happy to provide you with eye candy this evening."

Kate rolls her eyes, but she can't contain her smile. "You sure there's room for me in this house with your ego?"

His fingers slip beneath her t-shirt, stroking her skin. "Is it really ego, though? After all, you're the one looking, not me. I'm just here trying to help welcome you home."

"Oh, I feel very welcome," she drawls as his hips bump hers. "And I can tell that you're extremely happy I'm here."

Rick chuckles, finding her mouth for a quick, biting kiss. "Funny, Captain Beckett."

"Try to be," she sing-songs, slipping out of his arms with another trinket from her apartment in her hands. "Here?" she asks, gesturing to a blank spot on a shelf beside one of his typewriters. Rick grins, giving her an eager nod.

"Perfect," he rumbles, his bright eyes following her as she makes herself at home.

He convinces her to stop for food before they tackle the rest of the office, but she barely takes the time to let her food settle before she's up again and moving into the other room. Her gorgeous new desk – a present from Rick – sits tucked in the corner closest to the window, proudly displaying her iMac and a few of her favorite pictures, and she lowers herself to the new desk chair, pulling her first box of papers closer.

Castle lumbers through the doorway a few minutes later, newly refilled glasses of wine in his hands.

"Your beverage," he murmurs, waiting until she takes the glass from his fingers to sweep his eyes over the desktop. "You're sure you like the desk?" he asks. "Because I won't be offended if you want to return it and get something else."

Kate stands, reaching out to draw him closer. Her lips seek his, pouring her gratitude into the warmth of her kiss.

"I love it, Rick. Don't even think about taking it back."

He beams, palming her hip with one large, steady hand. "I'm glad."

She nods, smoothing his shirt over his chest. "It fits perfectly in here, don't you think?"

"Uh huh," he agrees, taking another easy kiss from her lips.

Kate hums, indulging in the press of his body for another moment longer, nudging him back once her legs begin to sag.

"Sooner we finish, the sooner we can go to bed," she promises, retreating to the open box.

Rick nods in understanding. "Ooh, does this mean I have permission to see your stuff?"

"Haven't you already seen my stuff, babe?" she quirks an eyebrow, watching the pleased smile light his face.

"Well, yes, and it is _lovely_ stuff, if I may say so. But I meant your other stuff. This stuff." He gestures, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Ahh, yes. The top secret, exciting stuff," she drawls, touching her smile to his once more. "Like my insurance, and how much I still owe on my student loans."

"Intriguing," he says. "What else?"

"Sorry, Rick," she deadpans, clicking her tongue, "the good stuff is strictly off the books."

"Hah," he crows. "Knew it. Now, where would you like me to put these things?" He gestures to the box at his fingertips.

"Umm," she pauses, glancing over to see exactly what he's asking about. His hand disappears into the box, lifting a pile of dark blue, brown, and manila folders for her inspection. "Filing cabinet?"

"Done." Rick hefts the stack. "Keep them in this order?"

She nods. "Thanks. Should be alphabetical, but if you notice anything out of place, go ahead and fix it."

"On it," he says, turning toward the cabinet behind his desk. "I'm really good at this sort of thing, you know."

"The alphabet?" she asks, lifting an eyebrow. "I would hope so, since you are a world famous, best-selling author and all."

Her boyfriend sticks his tongue out at her before he seems to grow shy. "I spent a lot of time at the New York Public Library when I was a kid. Sometimes when I got bored, I would talk the librarian into letting me assist her in shelving books."

Tilting her head, Kate pictures him wandering through the library with a small stack of books to re-shelve, all floppy brown hair, innocent eyes, and cheeky smile. She can imagine him repeating each call number under his breath and standing straighter in triumph when he finished the task.

"That's sweet," she murmurs, watching his cheeks color at the compliment. "So you're pretty good at the Dewey Decimal System, huh?"

He lifts a shoulder. "Well, it wasn't exactly a skill I bragged about in school… it's pretty nerdy."

Beckett grins. "That hasn't changed. You're still pretty nerdy."

"Fair point," he says, his eyes sparkling.

"But I like it," she continues, dragging her teeth over her lower lip. "You kinda make nerdy sexy, y'know."

His chest puffs up at that, and she's certain if he didn't have her files in his hands, they would be on his hips in a full-on Superman pose.

"That's true," he breathes. "I'll let you tell me more when we finish this."

Kate laughs, offering him a wink in lieu of a comment.

He's on his second, maybe third, batch of filing when he calls her name. Lifting her head from the drawer she's organizing, Kate finds her boyfriend watching her with concerned eyes, a familiar, worn file in his hand.

"Is this…?" he asks, trailing off as if saying the word is forbidden.

She slumps in her seat, runs a hand through her hair. "Yeah," she answers, swallowing hard. "My mom's case."

Rick looks at the file in his hand and then back at her. "I didn't know you had this."

"You did say you wanted to see my stuff," she says, though the statement lacks most of the humor from earlier. "I've had it for years," she explains before he can speak again. "Since I was a rookie cop. I kind of… made copies from the records room, and it's not like I could just throw it out when I decided to put the case away…"

He nods, touching her mother's initials on the outside of the folder. She knows he's curious; he practically vibrates with it, but he just moves to put it in the cabinet, respecting her wishes – and her threat – from over a year ago.

"Rick," she stops him, licking her lips. "Read it."

"But you said–"

"–That we would be over," she finishes for him. "I trust you not to go off and do something stupid because you think you're being noble," she says, getting to her feet. "And as my – in your words – ruggedly handsome partner, you should know more than what I've given you. So read it."

She closes the distance between them, kisses his cheek with soft lips, smoothing her hand over his back. "I'm going to unpack the rest of my stuff in the bathroom while you do that."

Rick catches her hand. "You don't want to stay?"

Giving her head a little shake, Kate thumbs his knuckles. "I already know what it says. I probably still know it backwards and forwards, to be honest with you. And I… I know myself; it's the same reason an alcoholic doesn't pick up a drink. If I start looking at this case, I'm going to want to keep looking at it. So I don't start."

He nods, bringing her hand to his mouth. "Okay."

"Kay," she echoes, stooping to kiss his mouth. "Come find me when you're done."

"I will," he promises, allowing her to slip away. "And, Kate?"

She stops at the doorway to their bedroom, twisting her head just enough to see the earnestness in his gaze.

"Thank you. For trusting me with this. I'll put it away when I finish reading."

"Thanks," she says, offering him a soft smile as she slips between the bookshelves and leaves him to read.

He joins her a little while later, after she has finished unpacking her toiletries and moved on to refolding her linens to go in the closet, stretching out at her feet on the bed. His fingers curl around her ankle, seeking the connection of their skin, but he doesn't speak.

"Saw you making notes in there," she murmurs after a while, pausing her task to lock eyes with him.

It's not an accusation, but his eyes widen anyway, a deer in the headlights, and his mouth opens and closes a few times before he's able to defend himself, "I was just–thoughts. Not for book research or looking into it at all. Just thoughts I had about it. I put the paper in the file when I was done."

Kate nods, dropping the towel onto her lap to cover his fingers with hers. Rick turns his hand over, offering her the cove of his palm.

"Sometimes I forget that you live with this every day," he says, swiping his thumb along the back of her hand.

Her breath stutters upon exhale. Sometimes – usually when she's with him – she almost manages to do the same.

"I wish I could–" he stops, shaking his head at himself. "I'm not going to touch it, I swear, but Kate? You say the word, and I'll get every friend I have looking into it, cash in every favor I'm owed. And you and me? We'll do it together."

That day won't come, but the conviction in his voice is almost enough to make her believe it will.

"Now," he continues, shaking her out of her melancholy. His free hand lifts one of the remaining towels from the duvet. "Why don't I help you finish folding these, and then we can spend the rest of the evening relaxing?"

Kate tosses the towel in her hand away, doing the same for the one in his grip. "Forget folding, let's start relaxing now."

He comes willingly when she pulls him into a hug, pressing his cheek to her hair as she settles against his chest.

* * *

She wakes to the hearty song of Rick's laughter, the gentle rumble of his voice carrying through the open shelves and into their bedroom. A bleary glance at the clock on her nightstand tells her it's late in the morning, close to eleven, but the heaviness in her limbs suggests she needed the extra rest.

In the two weeks since she moved in, she's only been able to sleep in once. Work has been insane, three double homicides, CompStat briefings, and a case that had the Feds circling and chomping at the bit to take over. She's felt bad for coming and going at all hours of the day and night, despite Rick's insistence that a crazy schedule is nothing new for the Castle/Rodgers household.

But it's been good, too. She comes home to warmth every night, to laughter and joy, and she belongs. She isn't a guest, and doesn't feel like an interloper between Rick and his mother; the loft is her home.

And, as she hears Rick laugh again, she's curious to know what's happening in her home.

Sliding from the bed, Kate stretches the sleep from her muscles on her way to the bathroom. Although she doesn't linger, she does take the time to brush her teeth and smooth away her bed head, bypassing her robe to grab Rick's as she heads into the office. The indistinguishable hum of conversation quickly becomes distinct syllables, and she notes a second voice in the mix.

A smile spreads across her lips. She knows that voice, knows how happy Rick must be right now, and she waits a beat before intruding on their peace. Instead she perches in the doorway, finding the two of them crowded around a computer at the breakfast bar.

"What do you think of this one?" her boyfriend asks, pointing to something on the screen.

The girl at his side shakes her head, bumping her shoulder against his. "Dad, that looks more like a prison than an apartment."

"It's secure!" Rick insists, his voice jumping. "It's just… modern."

"It looks like I'll get time in the yard and have to barter for books and toothpaste with cigarettes. Pass."

Kate smothers a laugh. It probably shouldn't surprise her, but she still finds herself amazed at how similar Rick and Alexis truly are. On top of their intelligence and drive, they share the same quick wit and off-the-wall humor.

" _Fine_ ," Rick heaves a dramatic sigh, only to grin in his daughter's direction.

Alexis rolls her eyes, but everything about the gesture is good natured and fun. "Let's keep looking."

Rick nods, slipping his arm around Alexis's shoulders, dotting a kiss to her dark head. Kate waits for their moment to pass before stepping out of the office and padding across the room.

"Hey," she greets, trying not to startle them.

They jump anyway, twisting on their stools to face her.

"Kate, hi," Alexis says. "I, sorry I kind of barged in. I took the red eye to surprise Dad and Gram. And you," she adds, sheepish. "I'm sorry. That sounded bad."

Kate waves her off. "Don't worry about it. It's only been a couple of weeks. I'm still getting used to being here myself."

Rick's daughter smiles. "I think it's great that you are, though."

"Me too," Rick chimes in, dusting a kiss to Alexis's head and getting to his feet. "Coffee for you, Sleeping Beauty?"

"Please." She sags a bit as he passes, brushing a hand over her borrowed robe. Maybe she should've changed. "So you said you wanted to surprise everybody?" she asks before Alexis can study her wardrobe too thoroughly.

The girl grins, gesturing to the computer on the counter top. "I thought you guys could help me pick out an apartment."

Kate blinks, but smiles through the confusion. "What about your mom?"

"Well, I'm sure she'd love to help, but…" Alexis trails off, glancing in her father's direction. Kate follows her gaze, noting the ecstatic grin on Rick's face, the bounce in his step. "You guys are a little more local than Mom."

A little more local… does that mean–?

"You're moving back to New York?" she asks, watching out of the corner of her eye as Rick practically bursts with joy at the coffee maker.

Alexis nods, rapid and eager. "I have a job interview on Tuesday. I love the type of work I do at the non-profit, and I've done some really interesting things in LA, but I can do even more here. Plus I just… I miss home. Dad and Gram, and everything. I want to come back."

"That's fantastic, Alexis," Kate assures. "It'll be great to have you back. I can tell your dad's already excited."

"Really? He's hiding it so well," Alexis teases, sticking her tongue out at Rick when he makes a face at them.

"Can you blame me?" he asks, bring Kate's coffee over. "My favorite people under one roof? It's exciting!"

Beckett rubs his arm, trailing her fingers over his wrist. Her lips find his cheek, nose brushing his stubble.

"You're sweet," she murmurs, turning back to Alexis. "So when do you make the official move?"

Alexis flushes. "Well, now? Kind of?" She laughs, looking between Kate and the computer. "I brought as much as I could check at the airport, and arranged for shipping for the rest of my things on Monday. I figured you and Dad wouldn't mind if I stayed until I found a new place?"

Yeah, like Kate's going to tell Rick's daughter that she's not welcome in the place she grew up.

"Of course I don't mind," she says.

"As far as I'm concerned, pumpkin, you can stay forever," Rick piggybacks off her promise, his smile never wavering.

Alexis laughs, shaking her head. "I won't be staying forever, but thanks." She kisses her dad's cheek when he steps closer, returning his hug with gusto.

"We'll talk," Castle murmurs, resting his chin on his daughter's head. "In the meantime, what should we do today?"

Alexis hums, looking at Kate. "What do you think? Movie day?"

Beckett laughs. "Considering you flew all night? Definitely something easy. Sci-Fi, maybe?"

Both Castles grin, telling her she's picked well.

Alexis squirms from Rick's arms, announcing she's going to take a quick shower before they start.

"I'll be super fast," she promises, closing her laptop lid. "I just want to clean up and get comfortable."

Kate finds herself murmuring for the girl to take her time, matching Alexis's appreciative smile.

"I'll make the popcorn," Castle says, watching his daughter disappear upstairs. He doesn't move immediately, instead reaching for Kate.

"You're giddy," she observes, winding her arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer for a kiss that says both congratulations and good morning. "It's a good look for you."

Rick's fingers slide through her hair, taking another kiss from her mouth. "I woke up beside you, and then a few minutes later my daughter knocked on the door and asked to come home for good. I'm beyond giddy."

She hums, holding him tighter. "I'm glad. Now come on, you start the popcorn, I'll pick the movies."

* * *

 _A/N: As always, I am so grateful to you all for your love and support. I wouldn't have made it this far in this fic if not for all of you! Thank you so much._


	24. Chapter 24

**Our Best Selves - Chapter Twenty-four**

* * *

Life is good.

There are other ways he could describe the contentment that rests easy on his shoulders, but for once it feels right to keep things simple. His life is good. His daughter has returned from LA for good, choosing to stretch her wings in New York instead of across the country. She's been looking for apartments of her own since she got her new job, but he's in no hurry to send her packing. The woman he loves has been calling his loft home for just over two months; she wakes with him each morning (sometimes more enthusiastically than others), stands at his side to wash dishes at night, breathes life into him when he's dragging, and he hopes he does the same for her.

Even his mother radiates happiness now. She's busier than ever with rehearsals and a new project she has in development, but the tense line her shoulders have carried for years, the curve he'd seen so often in his childhood and only now recognizes as the way she holds herself when she's under stress, is gone. Now any tension she feels seems to dissipate as soon as she walks through the front door and announces that she's home.

Consolidating households hasn't been without its bumps, of course, but they're managing so far. The master bedroom offers Kate sanctuary when three housemates get to be too much, his mother has compromised on much of the decor in the loft, and he's been finding the learning curve for welcoming his grown daughter home without smothering her.

So far he thinks he's going a good job of that, and of giving both Kate and Alexis their space when they need it. At least he hopes he is.

Engrossed as he is in his thoughts, the scrape of the key in the lock and the swing of the front door barely register. It isn't until a bony chin lands on his shoulder that he looks up from the half-filled page on his laptop.

Alexis grins when he jumps, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Hey, Dad."

Rick laughs. "Hey. You're home early, aren't you?"

His daughter nods, patting his shoulder as she straightens. "There's an event later and Marci wanted some more time to prepare, so we got sent home. I may pop in tonight to see if she needs help, but in the meantime, half-day."

"And here I thought you might be playing hooky," he teases, knowing that even after all this time, his daughter is not one to skip out on important things.

Alexis grins, moving to the kitchen for a water bottle. She guzzles it down before grabbing an apple from the hand-thrown pottery bowl on the counter – an addition from Kate's apartment, he's pleased to remember – and joining him on the couch.

"How's your writing going?" she asks, drawing her legs onto the couch between them and nodding to his computer. "I haven't asked you yet. I didn't want it to seem like I was pushing."

Rick shakes his head, glancing back at the screen. "It's okay, ask me anything. I don't want you to ever worry about that. If you want to know, just ask."

Alexis nods, hiding a sheepish smile in her arm. "Okay," she breathes. "So how is it going?"

Pride surges in his chest. "I'm making progress. Really great progress. I actually started writing this one before I knew if Black Pawn would keep me, so it hasn't been a mad scramble like it used to be."

She beams. "Dad, that's great. When's your deadline?"

"End of May. Though you know Gina; it's always strongly encouraged to get it to her sooner."

"Ooh, anniversary month."

He chuckles. "You remember me telling you that?"

"The way you gushed about Kate? Of course I do. I hadn't heard you do that in years, probably ever."

He can only smile, shaking his head at himself. He'd been an idiot for so long, stuck in a terrible self-absorbed loop. "She snuck up on me."

His daughter's thin arms wind around his neck. "I'm glad, Dad. I'm so glad you found her, or she found you. No matter how it happened." Her head bumps his with affection.

"Me too, sweetheart. Me too." Rick rubs a hand down her arm, piecing together what he wants to say next. Her hesitance had reminded him that there are still things they haven't talked about, things they've tabled for the sake of moving forward, but maybe it's time they address them so they'll be able to let them go for good. "Hey, I know you worried a lot about me for a very long time, and it was justified worry because I let you down. I gave up and got lost in my own head, and that wasn't fair at all to you. But I want you to know it's different now, better, and it'll never be like that again. I won't let you down like that again, Alexis."

Alexis exhales, squeezing him tighter. "I know, but it is good to hear you say it, too."

He nods, resting his head against hers. "I'm glad."

"Me too," she agrees, sneaking a soft kiss to his cheek. "I have another question, though."

"Shoot." Closing his computer and setting it aside, he twists to meet her eyes, giving her an encouraging smile when she seems to hesitate.

"This is long-term, right? You and Kate?"

He sweeps a hand over her arm, quick to answer what he knows to be true, even though he and Kate haven't explicitly discussed it yet. "It is, sweetheart. It's long-term. We went into business together, she moved in; it's very long-term."

Alexis nods, looking thoughtful. Too thoughtful. He opens his mouth to question what's plaguing her thoughts when she speaks again,

"You should propose. And before you say anything, just listen. Being in business together is different. That's part of what hurt things with Gina, right? Thinking of your relationship like you would a business deal – we work together, so let's be together. Easy, convenient. Totally the wrong way to go about it."

It stops him short, hearing her put it that way. She's not wrong; co-owning a bar is different than pledging to be together forever, and doing the latter because of the former only causes problems.

"You're right," he admits. "But it's a little more complicated than just proposing, honey."

Alexis ignores him, waving his words away, the flick of her wrist just like her grandmother. "You love her, she loves you. There's nothing complicated about that."

He hesitates, searching for a way to explain that doesn't sound like an excuse. The last thing he wants to do is push Kate too hard or move too fast. "There's timing to consider, there's–"

Alexis shakes her head, vehement. "Do you have a ring?"

"I've been looking," he admits, glancing toward his computer. "Just browsing, nothing serious. I could show you though–"

Alexis jumps up, tugging on his hand. "Come on, Dad. Shopping first, then we'll worry about timing. You can't propose until you have a ring, after all."

Strictly speaking, he could, but he won't. Kate Beckett deserves better than a hasty, empty-handed proposal. She deserves something magical.

"Okay," he concedes, dipping his head. "Okay, we'll go look. But I make no promises about purchasing."

His daughter grins. "I believe you. Go get your wallet and shoes; chop chop."

Less than five minutes later, she's shooing him out the front door with her purse on her arm.

* * *

It occurs to him only after the plan is set in motion that ambushing Kate with this is perhaps one of the dumber things he's done in his life, but there's no going back now. The stage is set; the lights have been dimmed, the necessary props are in their places, now he just needs Kate to step through the front door.

She's on her way, he knows, but at rush hour, the commute from the precinct could still take a while. If he hadn't finished preparing ridiculously early, he might be grateful for the extra time, but instead he's left with coiled muscles and sweaty palms, reconsidering the entire idea.

What if she hates it?

One side of his brain scoffs at the idea, because this is _Kate_ and this seems like it would be right up her alley, but the side of his brain that knows how Beckett feels about things being sprung on her – especially at the end of a long work day – is worried. Very worried.

"Relax, Dad," his daughter says, her voice low.

He twists, finding her in position across the room. She has her own part in this, but unlike him, she doesn't look the least bit agitated at the moment.

"I mean it," she adds, lowering her chin toward her chest. "You're worrying over nothing. This'll be good. Just relax."

"I am relaxed," he argues. "I'm just also–"

He falls silent at the sound of a key in the door. Kate's key. Alexis shoots him a look, mouthing for him to breathe.

"Hey," Kate announces, stepping inside. "I'm ho-ome?"

Even her confusion makes his heart flutter against his ribs. She is home. And weary by the looks of it. Oh, maybe this is a bad idea.

"Rick?" she tries, glancing around the darkened loft. "You here? Did you fall asleep at the computer again?"

He watches her slip out of her coat, adjusting it over a hanger before she makes her way to the gift he's left draped over the back of the couch.

"After a long day, it's only right that you unwind. Put this on," she reads under her breath, shaking her head at his offering. "I think we need to talk about your definition of unwinding."

There's only amusement in her voice, though, affection, and the nervous tug in his chest releases with her grin, the single flash of her teeth.

"I see what this is, Rick Castle," she calls, her head swiveling – no doubt in attempt to pinpoint his location. She kicks off her shoes, pulls the laser tag vest over her head, grabbing the gun. "And, baby, you're going down."

With that, she slinks away, ducking into the darkness as he and Alexis creep from their hiding spots, weapons at the ready.

"We'll see about that, Captain," he taunts. "We will just _see_ about that."

* * *

He greets his girlfriend with a kiss after the match (which, admittedly ended up being less of an ambush on Kate and more of an assault on him at the hands of the women in his life), slipping his arm around her waist and tugging her in until their vests clack together.

"Hi," he says, offering her a lopsided smile. "Surprise?"

Kate laughs, slipping his glasses from his head and smoothing his wild hair down. "Hi," she echoes, offering him another warm press of her mouth. "This was fun. Unexpected, but fun."

"I know, right?" he crows, exchanging a grin with his daughter. Alexis sheds her gear, lifting her eyebrows in amusement. "Alexis and I used to play all the time before she moved to LA; we decided that it was time to break out the gear again."

Beckett smiles, twisting to face his daughter. "I didn't steal your grandmother's vest, did I?"

Alexis breaks into a laugh. "Oh no, no. Gram never played with us. We bought yours the other day; you should have gear of your very own."

Kate's fingers tighten on his shoulders. "Really?" she asks, turning back to him, her eyes bright with affection. "You bought me my own laser tag stuff?"

"Uh huh," he answers, thumbing her sides. The gear isn't the only thing he and Alexis bought that day, but their other purchase will remain a well-hidden secret for the time being. "Top of the line laser tag is important in this house, Beckett."

She chuckles. "Of course it is."

"He's not kidding," Alexis says, grinning. "He bought our first set when I was probably five. After that we played constantly. We had a competition to see who could get to a thousand points first."

"I won," Rick adds, quirking a grin. "The first time anyway. We–"

"Are still working on the second game," Alexis finishes for him, offering a soft smile, another reminder that they're moving past the hard feelings and difficulties of the past couple years. "I'm winning so far, though."

"For now," he challenges, feeling Kate press a smile to his arm. "I will take you down, though. Just you wait and see."

Both women laugh. Alexis winks, holding out a hand to take some of their gear. "Yeah, we'll see all right. I'm not counting tonight, though, 'cause it puts Kate at a disadvantage. Though she did get a pretty good start with all the hits she got on you, Dad."

"Hit on me anytime you like, Kate," he rumbles, grinning when she rolls her eyes. "Besides, I think I held my own quite well until you two ganged up on me."

"We ambush because we love," Kate singsongs, patting his chest once his vest is gone. "And because you were ahead."

"Cheater."

"Desperate times." She grins, stepping over to the closet with Alexis to help stash their gear. "How 'bout I make it up to you with dinner?"

He pretends to think, watching two of his favorite women nudge each other and smile while they await his answer. "I accept."

"Good. What about you, Alexis?"

His daughter shakes her head, looking apologetic. "I'm leaving in a few minutes, actually; Marci asked for some help getting everything set up for the morning. Thank you, though."

"Of course." Kate smiles, squeezing her arm before stepping away. "I'm just going to change clothes, then I'll start dinner."

Rick nods, allowing his eyes to follow her as she disappears into their bedroom. Alexis's smirk greets him when he turns back. She's already in her coat and her shoes, her purse on her shoulder.

"What?"

She shakes her head, crossing to him. "Nothing. I'm just glad we did this."

"Me too," he says, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "Also glad Kate didn't kill me."

That earns him a hearty laugh and a tight squeeze. "I told you she wouldn't. She loved it. And she's really good."

Pride warms his belly. Kate Beckett really is something. "Yeah, she is. You should see her at the shooting range."

Alexis kisses his cheek, tilting her head in affection. "I believe it. I'll be back later, okay?"

"Kay. We'll save you some food if you want."

"You don't need to, Marci's ordering in for us." She pulls away, patting his chest. "I might suggest making your meal a little bit romantic and helping Kate cook. Now that you've shot lasers at each other, it only seems right."

She's halfway across the room before he has the chance to respond, waving over her shoulder as the door swings shut behind her. He didn't miss her smile, though, the happiness in her eyes.

Yeah, it has been a good day.

* * *

"So I never asked," Kate starts a few days later, wiping her mouth on a napkin before returning her hand to him. Her fingers slot through his once again, his thumb seeking the soft ridges of her knuckles. "Why laser tag?"

Rick tilts his head, watching her throat work as she swallows a sip of wine. God, she's beautiful. "What do you mean?"

His girlfriend laughs softly. "Don't sound so suspicious, Rick. I just meant what made you pick laser tag when Alexis was little? I would've expected something like horseback riding. Or an elaborate princess game."

"Oh, we did those things too. But it was hard to get out to the Hamptons enough to ride with any consistency. And after a while the dresses got itchy on my skin. Plus Alexis decided she was already a princess – the Castle thing and all – so the extra stuff wasn't necessary. She always was a practical kid," he muses. Kate laughs, jostling his hand for him to continue. "One of the kids in her class had a bowling birthday party, and as we were leaving, we saw the laser tag area. Alexis wanted to play, but they were closed for renovations and it kind of broke her heart."

Kate squeezes his fingers. "So instead of just taking her back once the renos were done, you bought your own laser tag equipment and started to play in your own home."

Rick chuckles, dipping his head. "Yeah, I guess you could put it that way. Part of it was that I also figured learning home might be better. You know, playing in the loft with the lights off is easier to control than an unfamiliar arena, so if she got scared or disoriented, it'd be easier to calm her down. Plus, it helped us get really, _really_ good."

Something flashes across her face, but before he can ask her about it, Kate pitches sideways, catching his mouth in a sharp kiss. She swallows his surprise, gentling a moment later, her tongue teasing his lower lip when he opens to her.

"Wow," he breathes against her lips, coming back for another kiss, slipping his free hand into her hair. The entire restaurant could be watching them right now, but his focus is on this woman and the sweetness of her mouth. "What was that for?"

Her fingers curl at his jaw, anchoring him to her. "I love you, that's all," she murmurs. "And you're a good dad."

Rick hums, pressing his lip to hers again. "I love you, too. And I will admit, it's quite the ego boost to know my RHD makes you want me."

Her thumb swipes his chin, soft, gentle. "Do I want to know?"

"Ruggedly Handsome Dad," he says anyway, grinning against her mouth.

"Of course," she exhales, brushing his nose with hers. "Of course."

She doesn't deny it, though. Any of it. If anything, she confirms it with each question she asks, each time she requests a story about when his daughter was young. His hopeful heart can't help but stumble at what her interest could mean, what might be going through her head, what she might be considering for them.

He knows one thing though: he's going to ask her to marry him soon.

* * *

 _Thank you for always sticking with me, everyone. I'm so bad about responding individually, but please know every review, every kind word you spare for me is amazing. Thank you._


	25. Chapter 25

**Our Best Selves - Chapter Twenty-five**

* * *

She loves the loft, the feeling of warmth and family that wraps around her as soon as she steps through the door, but she has to admit that she appreciates when there's a softness – a quiet – to the house, as light begins to peek through the blinds and something new is on the horizon. It's the perfect time to reflect and recalibrate when living with four adults (plus Martha and Alexis's occasional guests) gets to be a little much, and she relishes in the quiet sometimes.

Which is why it doesn't surprise her that other members of the household do, too. She steps out of the bedroom to spy a head of dark hair in the spot she usually occupies. Alexis greets her from the window seat by the piano with a soft smile, tracking her as she pads to the kitchen.

"Did you catch a case?" Alexis asks. "It's fresh," she adds when Kate lifts the coffee carafe, intending to peer inside. "I just made it."

"Thanks. And no, no case. It's my day off. I just… kind of like it when it's early."

Alexis's smile grows. "Me too. It helps me relax, gives me time to think."

Kate nods. "Exactly. Not that–I love being here, I swear," she stumbles, lifting her shoulders to her ears. "I didn't mean it like it sounded."

The girl laughs softly, waving her off. "I know, Kate. It gets crazy around here; sometimes it's nice to have a few minutes to just be."

Her shoulders relax, but she guides her coffee mug to her lips before she speaks again. The last thing she wants to do is insinuate that she's not happy living with them.

"Would you like to sit?" Alexis offers, pointing to the other side of the window seat. "I don't mind the company."

Kate nods, padding over to the window on quiet feet, sinking down across from her boyfriend's daughter. Alexis lifts her mug, sipping slowly, encouraging Beckett to do the same.

Although they share smiles and the occasional word or two, they're content with the silence. It reminds her of growing up in a way; weekends of sitting in the living room with her parents while they relaxed and read the paper. It's nice, comforting; Rick and Alexis both seem to possess the innate ability to make her feel at ease without words, though she knows the former enjoys them quite a bit.

After a while, Alexis faces her again, looking peaceful.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

Kate tilts her head, watching sunlight ripple through the blinds. "Yeah. Yeah it is. Nice getting to see it on my own terms, too, and not because of work."

Alexis lifts her eyebrows. "I bet. You should go up to the roof sometime and watch it. One time, Dad dragged me out of bed before dawn and we went up there with a pinhole camera and saw Venus in transit."

Kate smiles. "Yeah? How was that?"

"Sleepy," Alexis laughs, glancing over her shoulder to make sure her amusement hasn't disturbed her father.

Kate follows her gaze, but Rick doesn't emerge from the bedroom. "I bet."

"But it was really cool, too. I remember he was so excited to show me."

Of that, Kate has no doubt. She's no stranger to Rick Castle's exuberance, his gentle urging and borderline impatience when he thinks they're about to _miss_ something amazing.

"How old were you?" she asks, tilting her head.

"Ten," Alexis answers, smiling affectionately. "I'd wanted to go to Space Camp that year, but the timing didn't work out with school letting out late because of bad weather and going on a trip with my mom, then one with Gram, then another one with my dad. So Dad set up a camp just for us. Watching the sunrise and the transit was part of it."

Her heart stutters, swelling at the thought of Castle creating a version of Space Camp for his young daughter because she wouldn't be able to go to the real thing. Yet another piece of evidence describing what an amazing father he'd been – and could be again.

"That sounds like so much fun," she murmurs, licking her lips, reining herself in. One thing at a time. "You must've had a blast."

Alexis grins. "Yeah, I did. He took me to one of those trampoline places, since we didn't have the moon gravity chair, and we sat in office chairs and spun around to pretend it was one of the other things they do. And we watched a couple of space movies and read a whole bunch of things about space history. It was fun. But that's… probably more than you wanted to know, since we were just talking about the sunrise," she adds, laughing into her hand. "Sorry."

"No, no. Don't be sorry. I did want to know. Thank you."

She does want the stories, no matter how tangential they seem. Rick and Alexis have two decades of history she's not a part of; even the smallest glimpses allow her some connection to that.

Alexis's head dips. "Okay. Then good."

Kate offers her a reassuring smile. "Good. So how were the sunrises in California?"

"Gorgeous. I saw… more than a few of them," she says, looking a little bit sheepish. "Never for Venus, though. It was in transit again right after I moved, but my mom's not really big on that stuff, so she just laughed and said she'd be sleeping in while I got up to see it."

"Well, it's not for everyone."

"Yeah, that's true," Alexis concedes, turning back to the window. "It'll be nice to do something like that again," she says, almost to herself.

"You know," Kate starts, lowering her mug to rest on her knees. She needs a refill, but Alexis looks like she has something on her mind and could use a little bit of a nudge to get started. "I moved back home for a while, too. Twice."

Alexis focuses on her again, her brow crinkling in surprise, and maybe a little bit of confusion. It does feel like a bit of a non-sequitur "You did?"

She nods. It's more complicated than that, of course. "I was in school in California when my mom was killed, so I moved home to be with my dad."

Her boyfriend's daughter slumps, radiating sympathy but unwilling to interrupt to express it.

"It was… well, it was awful. My dad had… issues dealing with his grief and I couldn't stay and watch him slip away so soon after losing my mom, so I left about a year later."

The young woman nods, looking at her hands. "That's why I left–well, a similar reason. Dad wasn't dealing well and it was just… I couldn't watch him self-destruct anymore." Alexis exhales. "It worked out for you and your dad, though, right? I mean, obviously it did, because we saw him at Christmas."

Kate nods in return. "Yeah, it did. A couple years later, I moved back home again. My dad had gotten help and there was a part of me that didn't believe it would last, but I wanted to be there with him to see if he would stick with it. It was weird at first, adjusting to one another – my dad wasn't used to having a grown daughter, and I'd gotten so used to being on my own, I didn't want his help with anything at all. We clashed more than a few times. But we got over it."

Alexis smiles. "Good. I mean, Dad and I rarely fought before, and I know he's trying not to step on my toes too hard, but he's still–"

"He's still a dad," Kate finishes for her, making a 'what can you do?' face. "Been there. You'll find your rhythm soon, if you haven't already. And then when you do find an apartment you like and you get back out on your own, it'll feel weird to not have him around constantly."

The girl nods, looking thoughtful. "That makes me feel better, actually. Thanks."

"Anytime," Kate murmurs, reaching over to pat her knee. "Don't overthink it, okay? I know what it's like to feel like the other shoe might drop, but you and your dad will be fine."

Alexis exhales, sinking back. "We will," she agrees, repeating it almost to herself. "You're right; we will."

Beckett smiles. "I am and you will."

"Thanks, Kate. And sorry about all this. Everything is good with my dad, I promise. I just woke up feeling weird, I guess."

"No apologies necessary," she insists, allowing the corner of mouth to lift. "I get it. I do the same thing sometimes. The last couple months have had a lot of changes; it's understandable to work through them at a different pace."

Alexis concedes that point. "True."

"If it makes you feel any better, one of the last times I was having a thoughtful morning, your dad and I agreed to buy a bar and move in together."

The girl tosses her head back and laughs with abandon. "Of course. Not that it isn't great that you did, but that makes a lot of sense, too."

Kate grins, unfolding from the window seat. "I'd say it worked out pretty well, though, wouldn't you?" The girl nods. "But ah, while we're talking about moving, I am sorry I'd already found someone to rent my place. Otherwise you would've been able to–"

Alexis waves her off. "You didn't know I was coming back, Kate. And you can't break those contracts without a huge fight."

"Yeah," she exhales.

The girl smiles, nudging Kate's knee with her toe. "I'll keep looking. But if I haven't found somewhere by the end of their lease, and if they decide they don't want to stay…"

"All yours," Kate promises, matching Alexis's grin. "Get you more coffee?" she offers, holding out a hand once she stands.

"Thanks," Alexis says, turning back to the window once Kate takes her mug.

She's mid-pour when Rick comes lumbering in from the bedroom, his hair still crazy with sleep despite the t-shirt and jeans he wears. "I thought I heard the sounds of fun out here. And I must say, I'm a little hurt that you didn't wake me up to let me get in on it."

Kate rolls her eyes. "I think you'll survive. Coffee?"

Her boyfriend nods without hesitation, making a detour to the window to drop a kiss on his daughter's head. "Morning, pumpkin."

Alexis smiles. "Morning, Dad. We were just talking a little bit. Did we wake you?"

If they did, he doesn't admit to it. Instead he smiles, shaking his head. "No, you didn't wake me. I got a call from the contractor at the Haunt."

"Everything okay?" Kate asks, reaching for a teaspoon to stir his coffee. She's nowhere near as skilled as he is at making a latte, but she makes a mean cup of regular joe.

Rick joins her in the kitchen, slides a hand across her back, his lips finding hers in gentle greeting.

"Morning," he says, smiling against her mouth when she presses closer. "He's checking the plumbing in the bathroom like you mentioned. They'll salvage what they can of the flooring, and if there's not enough that's fixable, they'll let us know and we can figure something out with the designer."

"Oh, that's good. And I'm sure they're going to find a leak somewhere; the way that floor looked, it wasn't a one-time spill."

His fingers curl at her hip, encouraging her to lean into him, to take a respite against him. "I just want you to know, I find it so hot when you talk about stuff like this."

Kate chuckles away the silly thrill his compliment elicits, tapping his cheek with a fingertip. "Take your coffee and let's sit. You can tell us what else the contractor said."

"And then," Alexis calls, beckoning them into the living room. Kate notices that she has abandoned the window, flopping instead on the chaise part of the couch. "You can decide what we're going to do today."

Grinning, Rick takes the mug and Kate's free hand. "I think that sounds like a perfect idea. Maybe a trip to the museum? Or perhaps some shopping?"

"Or," Beckett hums, stepping closer, "we could go to the Haunt and see for ourselves what's going on with the work."

"Why not all three?" he offers, lifting his eyebrows playfully.

He looks surprised when no argument comes, but Kate just lifts her shoulders. After all, she does have the day off.

* * *

Kate is silent when she slips back into the loft, allowing the door to latch behind her. It's ridiculously early, and waking the entire household is not part of her plan. As nice as it would be to have everyone join them, this is meant for Rick alone.

Now she just needs to ease him from sleep and get him upright. Which is probably going to be easier said than done given how far into the covers he had been burrowed when she slipped out of bed, but they're on a timetable, so she has to give it a fair shot.

Slipping into their room, she finds him facing her side of the bed, covers pulled to his ears. He's both amusing and adorable, and Kate catches a laugh in her palm before leaning over his body. Her lips touch his hair in short pecks to see if that helps him stir.

"Rick," she whispers, smoothing a hand down his side, over his arm (or what she thinks is his arm, it's hard to tell in the blanket burrito), and back to his cheek. "Wake up. I want to show you something."

He stirs, mashing his face deeper into his pillow.

"Rick," she tries again, slipping her fingers beneath the blanket to stroke his neck. "Babe, open your eyes."

Her boyfriend exhales, mumbling something about a Batarang and saving Ryan and Esposito.

"Okay, Batman," she chuckles, checking her watch. Crap; they need to move if they're going to make it outside in time. "Up and at 'em. You can get to the people of Gotham next dream."

He hums in assent, but doesn't move. Even when her lips touch his jaw, he continues to sleep like a log.

"Castle, up," she orders, planting her knee at his hips and yanking the blankets down to his waist.

Rick's eyes pop open, wild, unfocused, bleary, and it takes the brush of her hand over his chest to ease the coil of tension in his limbs.

"Kate?" he asks, bewildered. "Wha's going on? S'everything okay?"

"Hey," she breathes, pressing a kiss to his lips, bad breath be damned. "Morning. Come with me, I want to show you something."

He pushes up on his elbow, looking around in the darkness. "A case? Big one?"

She shakes her head, retreating from the mattress before he can reach for her and entice her to ditch her clothes and join him in his cocoon.

"No, but you'll like this anyway," she promises. "Just move fast, or we'll miss it."

Rick blinks, rubbing his face. "Miss what?" He's moving despite his questions, though, so she waits him out, grinning from the doorway.

"Shoes," she orders, pointing to his slippers. "I have your sweater."

He nods, absently scratching his chest. He sways a little upon getting to his feet, but doesn't rock back to the mattress, so she stays where she is, waiting for him. "What're we going to miss?" he asks.

"Hopefully nothing," she says, grinning at the tiny huff of annoyance he releases. "You'll see, Rick. Just move."

"M'moving, I'm moving." He grumbles about keeping secrets, shuffling to the bathroom. "Two minutes."

Kate exhales; they have two minutes. At least she hopes they do. The likelihood of success is already small, after all.

Castle reemerges a minute and a half later, looking a little more alert. He stops to slip his feet into his shoes, crossing to her with an outstretched hand. She hands over the promised sweater, waiting until he tugs it down over his t-shirt to take his arm and lead him to the door.

"We're going to the roof?" he asks as she leads him to the stairwell and starts to climb.

"Mhmm. There's an eclipse this morning and I'm hoping that we'll be able to see it from here," she explains, thumbing his bicep. "And if not, we can at least see the sunrise together. I took coffee and breakfast up there, too."

His lips find hers, quick and eager, little trace of his earlier sleepiness. "You are so sexy when you're being romantic. Let's go."

Kate grins, catching his hand and tugging him along. In truth, she hadn't even considered it a romantic gesture, just something she wanted to share with him, but it works.

It's brighter than she'd been hoping for by the time they get settled, and the eclipse doesn't pan out, but as the sky comes to life in pink and orange, she's not bothered. Castle doesn't seem concerned with the change in plans, either. If anything, he seems happier not to have to focus on the sun as he reclines in the chair they share, sipping his coffee, stroking his broad hand along her side.

"This is nice," he murmurs, scanning the horizon before his eyes settle on hers. There's something in his gaze that makes her tilt her head, but he doesn't elaborate, doesn't say what's on his mind, and she doesn't push.

Kate hums after a moment, touching coffee-warmed fingers to his chin, tracing the line of his jaw. "I have a confession," she whispers, watching his brow furrow in confusion. "I kind of got the idea from Alexis."

It only takes a split second for his befuddlement to fade and a laugh to spill from his lips.

"Not the picnic part," she amends. "That was mine. But we were watching the sunrise the other day, and she told me about the time you dragged her out of bed at dawn to see if you could spot Venus in transit, so I wanted to bring you up here to see what we could see."

The memory flashes in his eyes, his smile growing impossibly soft. "I love it, Kate. Thank you."

"I'm glad," she says, brushing her fingers over his lips. "Sorry we couldn't see the eclipse."

He puckers against her fingertips, dipping his head to touch his mouth to the center of her palm. "Still have a pretty good view," he murmurs, offering her a too-pleased smirk when she rolls her eyes. He thinks he's so smooth, delivering a cheesy line like that with a semi-straight face.

"Drink your coffee, Rick," she drawls, stealing a lazy kiss instead of allowing him to do just that, tasting the sweetness of cream and sugar on his tongue.

Eventually they do retreat downstairs to start their day, but not before they've had their fill of both the awakening city and each other.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you all for your amazing support. I swear, one day I'll be able to say it enough._


	26. Chapter 26

**Our Best Selves - Chapter Twenty-six**

* * *

He's in the process of putting the finishing touches on the hors d'oeuvres for their get together with Lanie, Jenny, and the boys when he feels the warmth of eyes on his back.

"See something you like, Captain?" he asks, lifting his head in time to see Kate look away. His eyebrows wiggle anyway, the tease spilling out before he can stop it. "What am I saying, I know you do. But is there something I can help you with right now?"

"Nothing," she's quick to answer, despite the appreciative smile she'd been bestowing on him. "Lanie just texted; they're almost here. Is everything ready?" she asks, and not for the first time since they started prepping.

Straightening one of the platters on the counter, Rick nods. "Dinner is in the oven, finger foods are out, and three kinds of drinks are chilling. Plus, I can always break out the shaker and make cocktails if anyone wants. We are ready."

Kate nods in return, glancing around the loft like she's searching for anything else that might be out of place. Rick watches her fingers twitch, sees her inhale, and he gets it: she's nervous.

More than that, it's the first time they've had people over since she moved in and she's obviously freaking out a little bit.

"Hey," he murmurs, stepping around the counter, reaching for her, only to have her step hard into him, her arms banding around his waist. "Tonight is going to be fine. More than fine, it's going to be great."

Kate sighs, pressing her nose into his shoulder. "I know, I know. I have no idea why I'm so jittery; it's just our friends. Not like it's the mayor or your poker group."

He nods, slipping his hands along the curve of her back. "But it's the first party we've hosted together," he offers, hoping to help her work through her thoughts. "Since you insisted last year's Halloween party was just mine alone."

Kate hums in acknowledgement. "It was. I didn't do anything except show up and help clean up after it was over. But with this I just keep thinking about how long the boys and I went without even grabbing drinks after work, let alone having dinner together outside of the precinct. And I shouldn't, I know, because–"

"It's in the past," he says with her, brushing his lips across her forehead. "Tonight's about the future, Kate. We're going to have fun with our friends, we're going to find something to tease Esposito about because we can – and because we know he's the one most likely to give us a hard time at work – and it'll be great. No worrying about how long it's been, we'll just promise to do it again soon. And we will. Then when the Old Haunt reopens, we'll have a party there, too."

"Well, that much was a given," she says, bumping her forehead against his collar. "I'm being silly."

"Mmm, maybe a little," he agrees, hoping it's not the wrong move. His girlfriend laughs, though, lifting her head, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

"But it is weird," she adds, leaning back to get his eyes. "It feels kind of like I'm giving them all all-access pass to my life – our life. Which… I mean, obviously they _know_ us, and they see us together every day, but this is where we live outside of work. And it's not like I was hosting dinner parties before I made captain," she finishes on an exasperated, maybe embarrassed, exhale.

His hands fall to her hips, pulling her into a gentle sway. "Well, if it helps get the awkwardness out of the way, I can always make sure to mention how much of a slob you are, leaving your shoes everywhere…"

Kate laughs, listing into him again. He prepares himself for the pinch of her fingers on his ear – maybe his ass – but it doesn't come. "Oh, I'm the slob? What about you, Mr. Metrosexual? With your half a dozen bottles of hair product all over the bathroom vanity?"

Rick grins. "We just make terrible roommates, don't we?" he teases, lifting a hand to cup her jaw. His thumb makes a gentle swipe over her lower lip.

"The worst," she agrees, lifting onto her toes, catching his mouth with hers. Her arms tighten around his waist, pulling him closer, rocking her hips to meet his. "Thanks," she breathes a moment later, punctuating her words with another press of her mouth.

Castle hums, flexing his fingers on her hips. "Anytime. Plus, think of this as a dry run for our future Christmas and New Year parties."

"True," Kate concedes, squeezing the back of his neck and pulling away. "You look good, by the way. Very sexy."

He squares his shoulders, puffing his chest out. "Thank you. And you look spectacular, as always."

His girlfriend smiles, crossing the floor on sure feet the moment the buzzer sounds.

"Showtime," she singsongs, pulling the door open to admit their friends.

He's pleased to note that Kate's tension lasts all of forty seconds before she's laughing and shrugging off gentle quips from the boys about living the good life. Rick watches her flit around the living room, making sure their guests are happy and have everything they need, only to realize he's the one hanging back now.

How long has it been since he's done something like this? The answer comes to him quickly: too long. Book parties, other industry events, and holidays aside, it has been a long time for him, too, and it's nice to do something so… normal again. It's even better to be doing it with the love of his life.

"Rick," Kate calls, lifting an eyebrow when he shakes the cobwebs out of his brain. "Any particular reason why you're guarding the snacks?"

He chuckles, snagging his own wine glass and joining them in the other room.

"Someone has to," he says, lifting a shoulder. "I saw the way Esposito was eyeing the onion dip."

Laughter echoes around the living room, and he watches Lanie nudge the detective – soon to be sergeant as they'd just found out – but Espo just shrugs.

"It's good dip, bro."

"Kate made it," Castle says with no small amount of pride, brushing his hand over the small of Beckett's back. "She made dinner, too. From scratch," he adds, unable to keep himself from bragging on her behalf.

The boys share a glance, obviously impressed, but of course they tease instead of letting it show. "Look at you, Beckett. Captain and culinary expert," Ryan says.

Kate lifts a shoulder, offering a wry grin. "I try. Just make sure you don't fill up on dip. 'Cause if you don't eat your share of the main course, I might have to hurt you."

They snort, but it's Esposito who speaks up, "S'that how you're going to get your kids to eat their dinner? With threats?"

Beckett rolls her eyes. "I was going to say only you two are ridiculous enough to warrant a warning like that, but then I think about the fact that Castle gorged himself on cupcakes before we went out to dinner last week," she drawls, glancing sideways at him. Rick grins, lifting his shoulders when she turns back to the boys. "So I figure it's probably a wash at this point to expect different from my kids. I'll just order you around instead of sweating it."

Although the others laugh, Rick's breath catches in his throat. Does she know what she just said? Lanie obviously does, given the gleam in her eye, but Kate…

His girlfriend turns again, catching his fingers, her smile soft, promising. Dragging her teeth over her lip, she winks.

Oh, she knows. She _knows_.

Not for the first time in recent weeks, the ring in his sock drawer calls to him. If not tonight, he's going to ask her soon.

* * *

He wakes the following Thursday morning to the rise and fall of Kate's chest against his, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. Contentment floods his belly, and his fingers trace the ridges of Kate's spine in hopes of infusing her with the same warmth that flows through his veins.

She stirs, sliding her knee between his.

"Sleep, babe," she murmurs, slipping her hand down his side. "'Alarm's set for later."

Rick nods, dotting her hair with a sleepy pucker.

"Sorry," he breathes, pulling her closer. She hums in acceptance of the apology, shifting closer.

His eyes slip shut, his thoughts drifting, possibilities rolling through his head.

It would be so easy to ask her now, to slip out of bed and scoop the ring out of his drawer, maybe slide it onto her finger and wait. But he doesn't. He knows she wants something soft and intimate, and while it's sweet, waking up with a ring on her finger isn't going to cut it. Not for him.

He wants nothing more than to ask Kate to marry him, but he needs a way to ask that's as extraordinary as Kate Beckett herself.

He decides to start with a meal. Some place delicious, but unpretentious, somewhere they won't be on display. He won't ask at the restaurant, though; she would hate the spectacle that would inevitably follow. No, he'll wait to ask the actual question until they're alo–

"Rick?"

He blinks, forcing his eyes open to find her propped on her elbow, a sleepy smile on her lips.

"Something you want to tell me?" she asks, teasing a fingertip down his sternum.

"Hmm?" he asks, clearing his throat, feigning nonchalance. "What do you mean?"

Kate tilts her head. "You were mumbling 'no, not there,' in your sleep." She quirks an eyebrow, dipping to kiss his chest.

"I–oh. That's weird. Not sure where 'there' is," he rumbles, brushing careful fingers through her hair.

She looks up, her smirk widening. "In that case, maybe we should find out. How 'bout here?"

"There is good," he breathes, urging her up, painting a kiss on her lips. "Here's even better."

"Here?" she echoes, sliding across his body. "Hmm," she hums into his mouth. "I think you should show me all the best places, just to be sure."

He's happy to oblige, both in their bed and in the shower, and once they're satiated for the time being, he leaves her to get ready for work while he prepares coffee and cuts fruit for breakfast. She emerges from their room just as he pours two mugs, looking stunning and far more relaxed than a woman on her way to work should, and makes a beeline for her coffee.

"Thanks, Rick," she says, her voice low and warm.

"It is, as always, my pleasure," he murmurs, popping a chunk of cantaloupe into his mouth. "Now, you're sure all you have today is paperwork?"

Kate nods, bumping him with her shoulder. "Uh huh. And the boys have training for the first part of the day."

He accepts that with a tiny grumble. The plan was always that he would stay home today to get stuff done before tonight, but every cell in his body crackles with excitement, the magnetic need to be at Beckett's side.

"But you'll call if the boys get anything interesting later? Or if you're just bored and want a distraction?"

"I'll call," Kate promises, leaning in to swipe her lips over his cheek. "You just be ready to go cheer your mom on tonight."

"How could I not be ready? The horror of 48-Hour First Line is finally about to end. There is mercy in this world," he adds, turning to find his mother making her way down the steps.

Kate snickers, waving. "Morning, Martha."

His mother smiles, offering her a small nod before opening her mouth and delivering her first line in lieu of a hello.

Kate grins, stepping up to kiss his mother's cheek. "You've got this," she assures.

Martha leans into the affection, cupping Kate's cheek in return. The next time she delivers her line, it's softer. The third time, more forceful, and Rick sees Kate press her lips together to avoid laughing.

Oh, so many crazy things she'd gotten herself into when she moved in with him. He's lucky she loves him.

"I better go," Beckett murmurs a few minutes later, smoothing a hand down his arm. "I'm already running behind." The 'thanks to you' goes unspoken, but Rick offers an unrepentant grin anyway.

"Just like to be thorough when I wash your back," he says, brushing his lips over the line of her cheek. "I'll make you more coffee before you go."

Kate leaves a few minutes later after blowing him a kiss and squeezing his mother's arm, offering promises to see her at her show.

Rick watches her go, turning once the door snaps shut to find his mother studying him.

"What?"

She pats his cheek, but only repeats her line.

Yeah, he should've seen that coming.

He tries writing while Kate's at work, but instead he ends up sitting in the kitchen, turning the ring box over in his hands, brainstorming his proposal.

He'd been onto something earlier as he dozed, and though the details are a little fuzzy (only partially because of the amazing morning he and Kate had), he wants to keep the momentum going. He toys with the idea of a trip to the tropics, proposing on their balcony at sunset after dinner, but Kate takes convincing to ask for time off, and he doesn't want to wait for a holiday for her built-in vacation days. So that leaves the Hamptons – but again there's the issue of time off – or a spot in the city, with a sunset proposal still on the table.

And that's where he's stuck.

Well, not stuck, but he wants it to be perfect, and the perfect idea just hasn't come to him yet. After all, he knows she'll say yes, so why not make it unforgettable?

An hour and a half later, he decides to give himself a break and take a walk to clear his head, tightening his grip on the ring and sliding from his stool. He'll get his mother some flowers for later, and maybe inspiration will strike as he walks down the block. Or maybe he'll get lucky and Kate will call and want to go out for lunch, despite her insistence that she'll eat at her desk today.

Either way, some of the pressure will be off for a little while.

Given that it's the middle of the day, he's not surprised to find that the streets are crowded with locals on their lunch hour as well as tourists on the prowl for something new and exciting. He watches the large groups cause a few slowdowns, but as one guy keeping to himself, he's able to make it down the sidewalk without any trouble, stopping only when something catches his eye. A few times he digs his phone out of his pocket to take a picture – Kate's going to enjoy the photo of a pack of cats on leashes – but for the most part, he just walks, taking in the amazing, strange city of New York.

He comes home with an armload of flowers – some for his mother, some for Kate – a scene in his head, and a spring in his step. He hasn't made much headway on his proposal plan, but he's relaxed, which is what he thinks Kate would like most; not a performance, just him. If he's relaxed, the right moment will come. He'll ask, she'll say yes, and everything will be great.

Except for the part where, in the span of a couple hours, he's managed to misplace the damn ring.

Okay, _that_ is definitely not great.

* * *

He searches high and low, trying to keep the building panic from taking over, but the damn thing is just _gone_. It's not in his pockets, it's not on the counter, it's not in any of the drawers he's kept it in for the last month and a half.

An offhand thought has him tearing out of the loft and running down the streets of SoHo, retracing his steps in case the box fell out of his pocket at any point while he was walking. It's a bust, too. The owner of the flower stand practically scoffs and tells him he's shit out of luck; hundreds of people have walked by in the time since he was there, so even if he had dropped it, the chances of recovery are slim.

Despair tugs at his throat. How could he have been so stupid? For over a month he's kept it safe, and in one morning he's lost it?

Kate's waiting for him with an amused smile on her face when he trudges back into the loft. Early. She's much earlier than he had expected to see her, and any other time he would be overjoyed, but right now he wouldn't have minded the extra time to wallow over his mistake.

"Hey you," she calls, lowering her book to her lap. "Told you working through my lunch would get me home earlier."

He dips his head, trying not to let his frustration show. He might not succeed, but if Kate notices, she lets it go.

"I admit, you were right. But I bet it wasn't nearly as much fun as having me there to bother you with my boyish charm."

Her lips lift. "It was certainly more productive," she teases, tugging on his shirt to bring him down for a kiss. "Mmm," she tilts her head, "what's wrong?" she asks, thumbing his side.

Ah, so maybe she's not letting it go after all. Rick shakes his head, coming back to taste her lips again. Like he's going to tell her he's in the middle of a manhunt for an engagement ring he'd previously been in the process of trying to figure out how to put on her finger.

"Nothing. I had planned to write, but I got sidetracked instead. That said, I would love to forget all about that and entice you to put that book down instead." He wiggles his eyebrows, finding it easy to summon a cheesy leer.

His girlfriend laughs, shaking her head. "Tell you what? Write fast, and if we have time before we need to leave for your mom's show, the book will be but a distant memory."

"Deal," he agrees, trotting into the office for his laptop as Kate's laughter carries throughout the house. He's still on edge, still kicking himself for being so stupid, but maybe just maybe all is not lost. Maybe the ring is somewhere in the loft. Maybe he's found a new hiding place so good it has – momentarily – stumped even him.

He'll look again while Kate's getting ready for the show.

* * *

The ring is still AWOL by the time they have to leave, but Rick does everything he can to put it out of his mind. It's his mother's night, and he won't let his screw up get in the way of being there to support her.

The show is amazing. His mother puts her heart and soul into the role, nailing that sweet opening line of hers and shining from beginning to end. Pride warms his chest watching the crowd stand for a well-deserved ovation; his mother has earned every ounce of that adoration. Working herself to the point of exhaustion so many times, never backing down when things got tough, and coming out stronger for it.

And she's totally going to win another Tony for her efforts. No one will be robbing Martha Rodgers of her third one this time.

He tells her so when he meets her at the stage door with flowers in his hands and Alexis and Kate beaming at his side.

"Thank you, Kiddo," Martha breathes, holding him tightly, leftover adrenaline causing her fingers to tremble against his shoulders. "Thank you all," she adds after a moment, pulling back to beckon Kate and Alexis into the embrace. "My family."

Kate smiles, relaxing into the affection. "You were amazing. We're so proud of you, Martha."

A soft smile lights his mother's face. "Darling, a woman is only as good as the people she allows in her life, and I have surrounded myself with the best of the best–you three." Her eyes find his, radiating love and an urgency he's surprised to find he understands. "I'm privileged to have you. So when we part for the night, I want you to give the world your best."

Knocking her head against his, she murmurs, "And I want you to just do it, kiddo. Whatever's stopping you – just do it."

Throat tight, he nods. "You stole that from Nike, Mother."

She laughs, patting his back and stepping away. She comes back to hug Kate first, then her granddaughter.

"Now, don't wait up for me," she announces, swaying with Alexis. "Because I will be home in the morning."

"We will have the aspirin and a don't ask attitude at the ready," Rick quips, chuckling when Kate smacks his chest with the back of her hand.

His girlfriend leans into the arm he slips around her shoulders, curling her own arm underneath his jacket and around his waist.

"Ignore him. We'll see you tomorrow, Martha," she says. "Have fun."

His mother winks, gives him a knowing look before turning to kiss Alexis goodbye. And with that she's gone, off to join her fellow actors to meet the rest of their adoring public.

"Well," he says, looking to his daughter, then meeting Kate's eyes. "Shall we head home?"

They nod, falling into step beside him, their steps unhurried even as they fight their way through the crowd.

Alexis splits off from them a few blocks later, kissing his cheek and squeezing Kate warmly.

"It's girls' night at Paige's," she explains in response to his quizzical look. "Taylor and Kelsey will be there too. They called me earlier and asked if we could do something since it's been so long. Kelsey's bringing cupcakes."

He nods, rubbing her arm. "I think that sounds great. Have fun, sweetheart. And bring home the leftovers if there are any."

Laughing, her dark head bobs in agreement. "I will. I'll see you both tomorrow."

They watch her dart away, disappearing down the steps of the nearest subway entrance.

"And then there were two," Kate teases, slotting her fingers through his, giving him a gentle tug. "Guess we'll have to entertain ourselves."

Rick chuckles, squeezing her hand. "I wonder how we'll ever manage."

Kate shakes her head, offering a cheeky, sideways smile. "I have some ideas."

His heart tumbles. He does, too. Ring or no ring, tonight's the night. It's gorgeous out. She's breathtaking, wearing a soft purple dress and lace wrap, her smile rarely fading from her lips. She's happy, he's happy (missing ring notwithstanding), and he's going to forget worrying about a plan and take his mother's pilfered advice.

"Why don't we grab some food from the Thai place on the corner and take it up to the roof," he suggests, thumbing her knuckles.

Kate rocks into him, fitting her curves to his, pressing a hard kiss on his lips. He gasps into her mouth, spanning her waist with a hand, both to keep her there and keep himself upright.

"I think," she says against his lips, her voice husky with wanting, "that is a great idea. But we need to stop at home before we go up to the roof. I want to grab a blanket and some wine."

"Whatever you want," he agrees, punctuating the promise with another kiss.

Her lips curve into a mysterious smile, but he doesn't think to ask what it's about before she tucks herself into his side and nudges him to move forward.

* * *

"Do you want to change?" Kate asks when they step into the loft with takeout bags in their hands. "I'm not going to, but… up to you."

Rick shakes his head, contemplating whether he should hang up his jacket. It's mild out tonight, but that doesn't mean it won't be chilly on the roof.

"I'm okay. Wine, you said?"

Kate smiles, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. Interesting; that enigmatic smile is back on her face. "Uh huh."

"Coming right up." He deposits the bags on the counter, moving to their wine collection. "Any preference?"

"Mmm, no. But maybe grab some water, too?"

"Sure." He glances over his shoulder to find her watching him, eyes wide, her face expectant. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she breathes, her cheeks turning pink. She shifts her weight, glancing around the room. "Just… good night."

Warmth works its way down his spine. "It has been a good night."

And it's about to get better. He selects her favorite Châteauneuf-du-Pape, lifting two glasses from the rack before turning to the refrigerator for the water.

The black velvet box on the middle shelf beside the small selection of glass water bottles stops him short. Holy–has it been in here the entire time? Dimly, he remembers holding the ring in his hand as he meandered around the kitchen preparing for his walk, but he'd–why had he put it in the _fridge_ , of all places?

The tap of Kate's heels gives him warning that she's approaching, but in his astonishment, he doesn't even try to hide the box. She steps beside him, plucking the wine bottle and the glasses from his fingers and placing them on the counter. When she returns, her lips brush his cheek as her body fits against his side.

"I noticed it by the OJ when I got home," she explains into his ear, rubbing her hand down the tense line of his back. "Interesting hiding spot," she adds, her voice light.

He chokes on a laugh, closing his fingers around the box. "Not really where I was planning to hide it. Honestly, I thought I'd lost it. I–that's what earlier was about."

She hums, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "Freaked you out, huh?"

"God, yes."

Her fingers trip along his back, calming the rapid-fire thud of his heart. "Rick, just ask me," she says, sounding so very calm, so ready, he almost forgets to breathe. God, he should've done this weeks ago.

The fridge door clatters shut and Kate steps back to give him room to fumble with the box and lift the ring from the miniature pillow inside.

"Oh, that's kinda cold," he laughs.

She laughs, taking a shaky breath. "I bet."

"Kate," he breathes, trying to center himself, to find the words for everything that's in his heart. In the end, they come easily, so easily. "When we met I was drifting, aimless. And then you knocked me on my ass, didn't put up with any of my shit, and made my life extraordinary. You taught me to be my best self. You are the joy in my heart, and the last person I want to see every night before I close my eyes. I love you, Katherine Beckett, will you marry me?"

She sniffs, lifting a hand to swipe at her eyes. Her mouth opens and closes half a dozen times before she responds, "You did all of that for me too, you know. The moment I met you, it made my life extraordinary. You taught me to be my best self, and now I look forward to tomorrow's adventures. I love you, Richard Castle, and yes, I will marry you."

His hand draws her in for a frantic, watery kiss before she even manages to finish her sentence.

She said yes!

"Just to make sure I heard you right, you said yes," he murmurs when they part. "Correct?"

Kate laughs, lifting her hands to take his face between her palms. "Yes, Rick. Now will you give me my ring already? Or are you gonna stick it in the freezer for a little while?"

He snorts, stealing another soft kiss before slipping the ring onto her finger, giving it a gentle push past her knuckle. It's a little too large, he notes as it twists toward the space between her fingers, but nothing that can't be resized.

"Oh, that is chilly," she breathes, grinning. "And it's big."

Laughter spills from his lips, but he just lifts her knuckles to his mouth. "I am so not touching that one."

Her fingers curl around his, tugging him in. "Then touch something else."

Joy blooms in his chest, spilling over as her mouth finds his again, her arms winding their way around him tightly.

"You still want to go to the roof?" he asks once he catches his breath, resting his forehead on hers.

His fiancée – and oh, that sounds so good to say – grins, rubbing noses with him. "Yes, but only for a little while; I have plans for the rest of the night."

She pulls away, snags their wine glasses by the stems and wraps her hand around the neck of the bottle, heading toward the door, trusting him to follow with their food. "I'm skipping the blanket after all," she adds, looking over her shoulder. "You'll just have to keep me warm up there."

"Best. Night. Ever," he exhales, practically racing across the apartment to join his fiancée for the first meal of the rest of their lives.

* * *

 _A/N: I know I say this every time, but thank you all for your amazing support for this story. There's just the epilogue left now, and I hope you'll join me again in just a few days. Thank you all so much._


	27. Chapter 27

**Our Best Selves - Epilogue**

* * *

"I'm going to call them."

Lifting her head off the towel, Kate stares at her husband from behind her sunglasses.

"Right now?" she asks, nudging his thigh with her toe. They've only been out of the villa for a few hours, and only enjoying the beach for just half of that time. "Rick, they're fine. Isn't that what you've told me repeatedly?"

He catches her foot, squeezing gently. "I know they are. I just–"

"–Miss them," she finishes for him, allowing her lips to twist upward.

Rick nods, looking out at the clear aqua water before turning back to her.

"Don't you?"

Wiggling her toes against the palm of his hand, she sits up to grab her water. "Of course I do, but I think they'll be okay if you don't go running back to check on them again this morning."

He must see her point because he stays put, but he doesn't necessarily look happy about it.

"Rick," she murmurs, slipping her hand down his arm, giving it a gentle tug to draw him closer. He comes willingly, sharing her beach towel. He's still mum on what's bringing this up, though. They've been having a quiet day, a fun day, and she hates to see that fall by the wayside unless he honestly thinks something is wrong.

"What's going on, babe?" she asks, brushing soft fingers over his cheeks, along the bridge of his nose. "Thought you were in the middle of Operation Keep Kate Relaxed."

He nods, dipping his head to find her lips. He tastes like sunshine and the fresh fruit he's been sneaking, and she comes back for another lazy kiss when he pulls away.

"I am," he says once she releases his mouth, "and I've been succeeding admirably, I believe."

"And yet, I'm not convinced you're relaxed," she keeps her voice light. "Was the first honeymoon enough for you?"

He gasps, allowing himself to look mock-scandalized by the accusation. "Never, Kate. I just…" he trails off, but she does get it.

Slipping her fingers through his hair, she nods. Although they've been affectionately referring to it as a second honeymoon, the trip had been spur of the moment at the "suggestion" (though not the expense) of the FBI, and it's only fair that after almost four weeks away from home, Rick's starting to get antsy. She understands that, too; sitting things out has never been in her nature. In fact, she had railed against the decision to keep them out of the final phase of the investigation, even going as far as to insist they needed to be there when the arrest was made and not shipped off somewhere to avoid the media circus. But she'd been denied and the trip – a restful second honeymoon, in Castle's convincing words – had been booked.

"You don't feel right being here with them still in New York, I know," she supplies, feeling her husband's body sag. "You know, Alexis said that nobody has bothered her in a while; if you want to go home, I think the Bureau would allow it."

His head thrashes from side to side, emphatic. "I am not leaving you here. That would make me a pretty terrible husband; you might decide you like one of the strapping locals better and stay for good."

A laugh bubbles from her lips, but she tamps it down, turning to brush her mouth across his forehead. "Never."

"Well that's good to know." His lips lift. "And I am having a good time still, I just also wish Alexis and Cosmo had joined us," he finishes on a sigh.

Her lips twitch. Cosmo hadn't been her first choice of names for the chocolate speckled Catahoula lab mix puppy she'd given Rick as an engagement present almost two years ago, but it's grown on her.

"I know, babe. That would've been nice. But," she adds, slipping her arm through his, her head landing on his shoulder. "I am glad that you don't want to go home without me. Thank you for being here. And for sticking around through all of this."

Her husband's fingers knot with hers, and he lifts her knuckles to his lips.

"Where else would I be, Kate?" he asks, lowering her hand and pressing a fond smile to her forehead. "I did promise you, after all."

He's right about that. So many times in the years they've been together, he had sworn he would be by her side if she ever decided to make the leap and reopen her mother's case. She'd kept it in mind, but had been firm in her conviction to let it rest, even though it tore her up inside to do so. In the end, the decision had been made for her with one seemingly simple body drop in her jurisdiction. But still Rick has been here, at her side through discovering that their victim had been the one to run Roy Montgomery down on the street just months before her former boss's retirement, through unearthing her mentor's part in the events that led to Johanna Beckett's murder, even through understanding Roy's subsequent machinations for complacency in exchange for protection.

It's no secret that she's still working through her feelings about it all. There have been times in the last eight months where she has hated Roy, hated what his actions – and his inaction – had cost her family and his. Other times she tries to remember Montgomery for the good things, the amends he'd tried to make: giving her a chance as a rookie and guiding her to be the best cop she could be, for loving his wife and his kids and attempting to shield them from harm, for his attempt to make things right before her mother was ever killed.

It had been a single cryptic note in Roy's files that had led them to the cassette tape hidden in the elephant parade of Johanna's that Kate keeps on her desk – the parade Castle had been fascinated with when he first started shadowing her. That tape has since become one of the pivotal pieces of evidence in the FBI's case against Senator William Bracken, the piece that's going to put him away for having Johanna Beckett killed.

Suffice to say, the last few months have been difficult, but her husband has been here riding out every one of the ups and downs with her. When she's been overwhelmed by her grief and her anger, he's listened, holding her when she's needed the strength of his embrace instead of his ear. When she's been concerned by possible retaliation from Bracken, and frustrated at having the investigation in someone else's hands, Rick has – and will continue to be – here with her.

"I know," she murmurs, forcing herself from her thoughts before she can go get pulled into that maelstrom again. "I know, Rick. I just want you to know how grateful I am."

He nods, squeezing her knee. "I already know. Now come on, Mrs. Castle. Put all of that out of your mind and come swim with me. We'll call the kids later," he adds, grinning at her rolled eyes.

They've been over this; Cosmo is not their child, even though they both treat him like he is.

"Uh huh. And we're just swimming, Rick," she warns, allowing him to tug her to her feet. "No funny business."

He scoffs. "You act as if I can't keep my hands off you."

Kate uses their joined hands for leverage to lean in and knock a kiss to his jaw, scraping her mouth across his stubble.

"You act as if you can. Remember that dinner our first week here?"

Rick laughs, pulling her into his side. "That was one time."

"We're not allowed back in one of the three restaurants in this town, babe," she says as their toes brush the edge of the water. "I'd say that's fairly significant."

He heaves a sigh, looking out to the sea. "It was the worst of the three. No big loss. Plus we can still get room service."

Kate laughs, drawing him deeper into the water, relishing in the cool rush against her heated skin. "You would say that."

Her husband lifts a shoulder, looking nonchalant. "I just speak the truth. And when my wife is the most beautiful woman in the joint, who can blame me for getting a little bit carried away?"

She can't help but laugh again. "You would say that, too."

* * *

He's been talking to Alexis for almost forty minutes, discussing just about everything under the sun – from the current project Alexis is working on, to Martha's latest shenanigans, to Cosmo's new affinity for sneaking treats from the stash on Alexis's counter.

Kate doesn't mind his distraction; it's worth it to hear her husband this happy.

Plus, it gives her the opportunity to take care of her own things. She checks her email, hangs their discarded swimsuits and towels to dry, even decides to relax in the bath for a little while. And now she stands at the bathroom counter, staring at the half-straightened vanity and the too-large stash of tampons in her possession. She'd brought a bunch, anticipating needing them within a couple of days of their arrival, but judging by the number in her hand, she hadn't even touched them. Not once. In almost four weeks.

Come to think of it… it's been longer than that. If memory serves, her last period had been light, but she's been so busy, so focused on aiding (and then trying to get back on) the FBI investigation, on making sure William Bracken is going to stay in prison for the rest of his life, she apparently hasn't noticed that her period has been nonexistent since then.

The odds are good that it's just stress, but if it's not… Well, the timing's not great, not with so much still going on, but she's surprised to find that there's no stab of panic at the possibility. They've talked about this, about expanding their unconventional and wonderful family, but every conversation has been purely hypothetical thus far. They haven't agreed to make the leap just yet.

Well, looks like it's probably time to do something about that. Time for her to find out and they can go from there.

Slipping through the bedroom and glancing into the living area, she finds Rick making faces at the phone. He has to be talking to Cosmo. Either that, or his chat with Alexis has taken a strange turn.

"Hey, babe?" she calls, waiting until she gets his eyes to continue, "I'm going to run and grab some snacks for our movie later. Want anything specific?"

Cosmo beats him to a response, barking at the sound of her voice. Rick chuckles, gesturing for her to come closer.

"Someone's talking to you. Come say hi before you go."

"Yes, baby, I hear you," she calls, ignoring the catch in her voice. That nickname could soon refer to someone else, too. "We'll be home soon, Cosmo."

Rick beams, turning the computer to get her on camera, too. Alexis and Cosmo stare back at her, grinning (and giving her what she's always assumed to be the doggy version of a grin) when she waves.

"Hey, Alexis," she says, allowing her fingers to skim the back of Rick's neck when she steps to his side. He spins the laptop again. "How's it going?"

The young woman smiles. "Pretty well, Kate. I was telling Dad that I think you guys will be good to come back really soon. Barely anyone's talking about the arrest anymore. I've only seen a few reporters here and there, and they've kept their distance. So I don't see why you can't come home. I mean, they're not going to try to keep you away until the trial, right?"

Kate shakes her head. "That was never the plan. We can't put our lives on hold that long. I'll check in with Agent Wilkins in a few days, let him know what you've said."

"That sounds great," Alexis agrees, rubbing a hand over Cosmo's head. "Because while I know it's super tough out there in paradise, we do miss you here. Don't we, buddy?" She waggles Cosmo's ears in pretend agreement.

"Miss you guys, too," Kate murmurs, blowing them a kiss and standing taller, unwilling to lose her nerve. "Kay, I'm going to get that stuff. If you're still talking when I get back, I'll jump on again. If not, talk to you soon."

"Okay," Alexis says, waving the dog's paw. Cosmo licks at her chin, drawing a round of laughter from their lips. "Bye, Kate."

Rick's arm snakes around her waist, tugging her in before she can pull away. "Grab that spicy popcorn we had the other day?" he asks, getting back to her original question. "And some wine?"

Her stomach tightens at that. Oh _shit_ , wine. She's definitely had alcohol since they've been here, and before that, too. Not much – it isn't as if they've been partying it up every night – but still. No more, though.

If she is pregnant, they're going to need to go home soon, just so she can see her doctor and get checked out.

"I'll see what they have," she murmurs, pecking his mouth quickly. "Back soon."

She slips away before he can change his mind about his call and decide to come with her.

Not that she doesn't want him to come, but marching into a store with her husband and scooping up a pregnancy test is probably not the most delicate way to let him know she thinks she might be having their child. She considers telling him as soon as she gets back, before she takes the test. If it turns out to be nothing, it'll disappoint him, but it's better than blindsiding him in public.

Then again, after turning their lives upside down this past year, maybe a good surprise is in order. She can take the test first and give him the news with some degree of the Castle flair.

The general store down the street from their villa isn't large at all, and she recognizes the kid behind the counter as the teenage son of the owner. The second she steps inside, he gives her a friendly nod in recognition and goes back to the crossword puzzle book in front of him, allowing her to lift a basket and shop in peace.

She grabs the snacks first, finding it easy to pick up those items without much thought. Next, sparkling water goes in the basket instead of wine. If anything, that alone will pique Rick's interest. She picks up a couple of other odds and ends – hair elastics for her and a new bottle of shampoo for her husband – before allowing herself to stop avoiding the real reason she's here. Thankfully, the store only has two types of pregnancy tests, and both land in her basket with a dull thud. Decision made. Go time.

On a whim, she grabs a tiny souvenir t-shirt from a rack near the front. It's kitschy and screams "tourist," but there's something adorable about it. If the test comes back positive, it'll be her kid's first t-shirt, and part of how she'll tell Rick. If not, then it'll be a gift for her husband, a pledge that this is what she wants to try for soon.

Rick is off his call when she bumps the door open with her hip, but from the dip of his head and the quiet tap of his fingers, she knows he's writing. Good. This entire ordeal with Bracken has put him behind on the next Nikki Heat book, and the last thing she wants is for Black Pawn to come down on her husband.

The fact that she can take the test while he's preoccupied is a bonus.

Her hands shake as she rips into the cardboard box and retrieves the test. So much for being calm, cool, and collected; her entire life is about to change, regardless of the results.

Then again, her entire life has changed already. More than she'd ever thought possible after losing her mother at nineteen years old. She has a husband – an amazing husband – a beautiful, sweet dog, a mother-in-law and a grown stepdaughter, both of whom she adores, and after too many years, she also has justice for her mother. The closure she's worked so hard to find.

Not for the first time her heart aches for the fact that her mother never got to meet Castle, and won't ever meet her grandchild – whenever said grandchild comes along. God, her mother would be so happy for her right now, for Rick. Happy and proud, so very proud. And so ready to know for sure.

Sucking in a deep breath, Kate takes the test.

* * *

"Sorry about that," her husband announces over an hour later, stepping out onto the balcony with her. "I got a great idea for my next chapter while you were at the store, so I wanted to run with it. Didn't mean for it to take that long, though." He shakes his head at himself.

She smiles, marking her page and closing her book, reaching for him. "No problem. Glad you had the chance to get something down."

He hums against her mouth, cupping her shoulder in his large hand, his palm warm through her shirt. "Me too. It's a really good chapter, too, if I can say so myself."

"You just did," she drawls, tugging him in for another kiss. His overdone ego nonsense had once nearly driven her away, but now she likes when he pats himself on the back. And in her opinion, he has earned every opportunity to praise himself; he's come so far these last few years.

Rick chuckles. "Touché." He squirms onto the chair with her, cuddling close and resting his chin on her shoulder. "Didn't mean to leave you hanging, though. First with the video call, then with work. It feels like I haven't seen you since this morning."

Kate shakes her head, pulling his arm around her tighter, thumbing his bicep underneath the sleeve of his shirt. "You didn't leave me hanging. I don't mind when you call home, and I don't mind when you write, Rick. You know that. I love both of those things, in fact. Especially the writing."

"Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint my number one fan," he says, grinning when she rolls her eyes. It's all good-natured, though; she is his number one fan and they both know it. "Movie time?"

Her heart flutters, half in excitement, half in terror. It's almost time for him to know what she's been doing all afternoon. "Sure. I got your popcorn, and some of those gummies we tried the other day. The ones we both liked, not the gross ones you said tasted like soap," she says, waiting to get to her feet until he squirms from the chair and stands. "And a few other things to eat, too."

"Perfect."

She rubs his back, trailing him inside. "I'll get the food while you get the movie set up?"

"Done." Her husband twists, stealing a quick kiss before they part to complete their tasks. Castle moves to hook his computer up to the TV and she steps into the kitchen to gather the food and arrange them on the tray that held their breakfast earlier in the day.

Everything seems to be ready when she steps into the other room. The blinds have been drawn, a blanket rests on one couch cushion, and the throw pillows have been fluffed in preparation.

Rick turns at the gentle rustle of her feet on the carpet, smiling easily. "There you are. Ready?"

"Mhmm," she hums, setting the tray on the coffee table, crooking her finger to beckon him near.

Rick grabs the remote, bounding over to her. Affection bubbles in her chest; she loves this man so much. He never fails to make even the simplest things fun.

"No wine?" he asks, reaching for the tray once they're settled on the couch. "Oh, was it all the terrible cheap stuff?"

Chuckling she shakes her head. "Not exactly."

"I'll call the front desk if you want, get them to send some up," he offers, starting the movie and putting the remote aside. His arm winds around her shoulders pulling her closer.

Her lip finds its way between her teeth, the nervous thud of her heart growing louder in her ears. She shakes her head, managing to find the words to move forward with her plan.

"No, that's okay. Just make sure I got everything else you wanted."

He nods, poking through the small mountain of movie snacks she'd bought until his fingers brush the shirt with the multi-color tie dye fractals and the adorable sea creatures on the front.

"Ah, Kate?"

Releasing a shaky breath, she glances up to see his expression. "Yeah?"

"This… isn't for me, is it? Because, this is not my size at all, honey."

Laughing, she plucks the pillow from her side, swatting at him. He fends her off, chuckling in return. "No, Rick. It's not for you."

He nods, but she can tell he's still debating if she's putting him on or not. "Then um, what does – just so we're on the same page here – what does this mean?"

Twisting to face him, her fingers trip up his arm, over his shoulder, her palm skimming the back of his neck. She pulls him in for a sweet brush of her mouth, rests her forehead against his as she gathers her thoughts.

One of his hands skims her back, the other clutches the shirt still.

"I realized today that I'm late," she explains, her voice barely daring to go above a whisper. "Very late, and with everything, I just hadn't noticed. It was super light one month, and then… anyway," she trails off. He's used to period talk after living with women for so long, but she wants to get to the point. "So I took a test while you were writing."

Rick's eyes dart downward toward her belly, tripping back to the tiny t-shirt in his grip.

"Kate," he breathes, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. "Are we having a baby?"

He sounds so hopeful, so cautiously overjoyed, the answer spills from her lips in a choked exhale,

"We are."

His mouth is on hers the instant she manages to get it out. Kate laughs into the kiss, shifting closer, taking the shirt from his hands and encouraging his questing fingers to slip under her shirt and caress her stomach.

"Oh my god, this is – Kate, this is amazing. We're having a baby. We're having a _baby_."

She nods, brushing his cheeks with her fingertips, letting his new mantra, his elation, wash over her and clear away all her concerns for the time being. They'll go home as soon as they can, she'll get checked out, and then they'll live the best lives they can with one another and the tiny little person they've created.

"We're having a baby, Rick," she echoes, watching joy flood his face once again. After the last few months, it feels amazing to give him good news.

"We're having a baby," he repeats, awed. "God, I love you," he says, skimming his thumb over her navel.

"I love you, too. And I'm so glad you're the one doing this with me."

His eyes slip shut. "I wouldn't do it with anyone else."

Her lips touch his in promise, in silent affirmation of the vows she had recited on their wedding day; partners in crime and in life.

And now in parenthood.

* * *

 _A/N: Two years ago today, I posted the first chapter of this story, never anticipating the amazing response it would receive (or that it would take two years to complete). Since then, I've been positively blown away by your enthusiasm for the "AU in an AU" as I sometimes think of it, by your encouragement when updates were slow, and by your wonderful words on each and every chapter._

 _Thank you to Rida - caskettfan28 - for prompting this story way back when. I hope if you're still reading, you've enjoyed this interpretation of the AU-verse without "our" Castle's visit to bring Caskett together._

 _Thank you to Valen - prosemeds - for making not one, but three gorgeous cover art possibilities for this story. I'll put the others up on my tumblr soon, because I think everyone should see them. You have no idea how difficult it was to pick one to use._

 _And lastly, thank you to every single one of you_ _for allowing me to share this story with you, for being patient and kind each and every time, and for never giving up on me even when it seemed like I might've been faltering. _This journey has been amazing for me as a writer, and I hope as readers you've enjoyed it as well. I wouldn't have made it to this moment without you. Thank you so much.__

 _Until next time!_


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